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VOL.  IY. 








William  lands  at  Carrickfergus  and  proceeds  to  Belfast  ......  13 

State  of  Dublin  ;  William's  Military  Arrangements  .........  15 

William  marches  southward  ....................  .'  .........  17 

The  Irish  Army  retreats  ..................................  18 

The  Irish  make  a  stand  at  the  Boyne  ......................  19 

The  Army  of  James  .....................................  20 

The  Army  of  William  ...................................  21 

Walker,  now  Bishop  of  Deny,  accompanies  the  Army  .......  22 

William  reconnoitres  the  Irish  Position  ....................  23 

William  is  wounded  .....................................  24 

Battle  of  the  Boyne  ......................................  25 

Flight  of  James  .........................................  31 

Loss  of  the  Two  Armies  .  .  ................................  32 

Fall  of  Drogheda  ;  State  of  Dublin  ........................  33 

James  flies  to  France;  Dublin  evacuated  by  the  French  and 

Irish  Troops  ..........................................  35 

Entry  of  William  into  Dublin  ............................  36 

Effect  produced  in  France  by  the  News  from  Ireland  ........  37 

Effect  produced  at  Rome  by  the  News  from  Ireland  .........  38 

Effect  produced  in  London  by  the  News  from  Ireland  .......  39 

James  arrives  in  France  ;  His  Reception  there  ..............  41 

Tourville  attempts  a  Descent  on  England  ..................  43 

Teignmouth  destroyed  ...................................  45 

Excitement  of  the  English  Nation  against  the  French  .......  47 

The  Jacobite  Press  ......................................  49 

The  Jacobite  Form  of  Prayer  and  Humiliation  ..............  50 

Clamour  against  the  Nonjuring  Bishops  ....................  51 

VOL.  iv. 



Military  Operations  in  Ireland ;  Waterford  taken 53 

The  Irish  Army  collected  at  Limerick  ;  Lauzun  pronounces 

that  the  Place  cannot  be  defended 55 

The  Irish  insist  on  defending  Limerick 56 

Tyrconnel  is  against  defending  Limerick 58 

Limerick  defended  by  the  Irish  alone 59 

Sarsfield  surprises  the  English  Artillery 60 

Arrival  of  Baldearg  O'Donnel  at  Limerick 62 

The  Besiegers  suffer  from  the  Rains;    Unsuccessful  Assault 

on  Limerick;  The  Siege  raised 64 

Tyrconnel  and  Lauzun  go  to  France;  William  returns  to  Eng- 
land       66 

Reception  of  William  in  England 67 

Expedition  to  the  South  of  Ireland 67 

Marlborough  takes  Cork  ;  Marlborough  takes  Kinsale 69 

Affairs  of  Scotland 71 

Intrigues  of  Montgomery  with  the  Jacobites  72 

War  in  the  Highlands 73 

Fort  William  built ;  Meeting  of  the  Scottish  Parliament 74 

Melville  Lord  High  Commissioner;  the  Government  obtains  a 

Majority 75 

Ecclesiastical  Legislation 77 

The  Coalition  between  the  Club  and  the  Jacobites  dissolved. .     83 

The  Chiefs  of  the  Club  betray  each  other : . . .     84 

.    General  Acquiescence  in  the  new  Ecclesiastical  Polity;  Com- 
plaints of  the  Episcopalians 87 

The  Presbyterian  Nonjurors 90 

William  dissatisfied  with  the  Ecclesiastical  Arrangements  in 

Scotland 93 

Meeting  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Church  of  Scotland . .     94 
State  of   Affairs  on  the  Continent ;  the  Duke  of  Savoy  joins 

the  Coalition 95 

Supplies  voted;  Ways  and  Means 97 

Proceedings  against  Torrington 100 

Torrington's  Trial  and  Acquittal 101 

Animosity  of  the  Whigs  against  Caermarthen 102 

A  Jacobite  Plot 105 

Meeting  of  the  Leading  Conspirators 106 

The  Conspirators  determine  to  send  Preston  to  Saint  Germains  107 
Papers  entrusted  to  Preston 108 



Information  of  the  Plot  given  to  Caernaarthen 110 

Arrest  of  Preston  and  his  Companions Ill 


William's  Voyage  to  Holland. 113 

William's  Entrance  into  the  Hague 115 

Congress  at  the  Hague 117 

William  his  own  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs 119 

William  obtains  a  Toleration  for  the  Waldenses 122 

Vices  inherent  in  the  nature  of  Coalitions 123 

Siege  and  Fall  of  Mons 124 

William  returns  to  England;  Trials  of  Preston  and  Ashtoi: . .  .  125 

Execution  of  Ashton;  Preston's  Irresolution  and  Confessions.  128 

Lenity  shown  to  the  Conspirators;  Dartmouth 130 

Turner 132 

Penn;  Death  of  George  Fox:  his  Character 132 

Interview  between  Penn  and  Sidney 138 

Preston  pardoned 139 

Joy  of  the  Jacobites  at  the  Fall  of  Mons 140 

The  vacant  Sees  filled 141 

Tillotson  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  142 

Conduct  of  Sancroft 145 

Difference  between  Sancroft  and  Ken. 146 

Hatred  of  Sancroft  to  the  Established  Church.  He  provides 

for  the  Episcopal  Succession  among  the  Nbnjurors 147 

The  New  Bishops  149 

Sherlock,  Dean  of  Saint  Paul's luO 

Treachery  of  some  of  William's  Servants 157 

Russell 159 

Godolphin 1GO 

Marlborough 162 

William  returns  to  the  Continent 166 

The  Campaign  of  1691  in  Flanders 168 

The  War  in  Ireland;  State  of  the  English  Part  of  Ireland.  . . .  lt>9 

State  of  the  part  of  Ireland  which  was  subject  to  James 173 

Dissensions  among  the  Irish  at  Limerick 176 

Return  of  Tyrconnel  to  Ireland 178 

Arrival  of  a  French  fleet  at  Limerick  ;  Saint  Ruth 179 

The  English  take  the  Field  ;  Fall  of  Ballymore  ;  Siege  and 

fall  of  Athlone 181 



Retreat  of  the  Irish  Army 187 

Saint  lluth  determines  to  fight 189 

Battle  of  Aghrim 191 

Fall  of  Gal  way 194 

Death  of  Tyrconnel ;  Second  Siege  of  Limerick 196 

The  Irish  desirous  to  capitulate 199 

Negotiations  between  the  Irish  Chiefs  and  the  Besiegers 200 

The  Capitulation  of  Limerick 202 

The  Irish  troops  required  to  make  the  Election  between  their 

country  and  France 205 

Most  of  the  Irish  Troops  volunteer  for  France 206 

Many  of  the  Irish  who  had  volunteered  for  France  desert 207 

The  last  Division  of  the  Irish  Army  sails  from  Cork  to  France  209 
State  of  Ireland  after  the  War 210 


Opening  of  the  Parliament ' 215 

Debates  on  the  Salaries  and  Fees  of  Official  Men 216 

Act  excluding  Papists  from  Public  Trust  in  Ireland 218 

Debates  on  the  East  India  Trade 221 

Debates  on  the  Bill  for  regulating  Trials  in  Cases  of  High 

Treason 240 

Plot  formed  by  Marlboro ugli  against  the  Government  of  Wil- 
liam  219 

Marlborough's  plot  disclosed  by  the  Jacobites 254 

1092.     Disgrace  of  Marlborough  ;  various  reports  touching  the 

Cause  of  Marlborough's  Disgrace 255 

Rupture  between  Mary  and  Anne 257 

Fuller's  Plot 260 

Close  of  the  Session  ;  Bill  for  ascertaining  the  Salaries  of  the 

Judges  rejected 268 

Ministerial  changes  in  England 271 

Ministerial  Changes  in  Scotland 273 

State  of  the  Highlands 274 

Breadalbane  employed  to  negotiate  with  the  Rebel  clans 275 

Glencoe 277 

William  goes  to  the  Continent  ;  Death  of  Louvois 300 

The  French  Government  determines  to  send  an  Expedition 
against  England  ;  James  believes  that  the  English  fleet  is 
frieudly  to  him 303 



Conduct  of  Russell 304 

A  Daughter  bom  to  James  ;  Preparations  made  in  England  to 

Repel  Invasion 307 

James  goes  down  to  his  Army  at  La  Hogue 308 

James's  Declaration 309 

Effect  produced  by  James's  Declaration.  311 

The  English  and  Dutch  fleets  join  ;  Temper  of  the  English 

Fleet 315 

Battle  of  La  Hogue 317 

Rejoicings  in  England 321 

Young's  Plot 321 


Foreign  Policy  of  William 335 

The  Northern  powers '. 336 

The  Pope  ;  Conduct  of  the  Allies 307 

The  Emperor ;  Spain 340 

William  succeeds    in  preventing  the  Dissolution  of  the  Coali- 
tion   341 

New  Arrangements  for  the  Government  of  the  Spanish  Nether- 
lands. . . .  v 344 

Lewis  takes  the  field   345 

Siege  of  Namur 346 

Lewis  returns  to  Versailles  ;  Luxemburg 351 

Battle  of  Steinkirk 354 

Conspiracy  of  Grandval 360 

Return  of  William  to  England 363 

Naval  Maladministration 364 

Earthquake  at  Port  Royal ;  Distress  in  England 367 

Increase  of  Crime 368 

Meeting  of  Parliament ;  State  of  Parties  ;  The  King's  Speech  371 
Question  of   Privilege  raised  by  the  Lords;  Debates   on  the 

State  of  the  Nation 373 

Bill  for  the  Regulation  of  Trials  in  Cases  of  Treason 380 

Case  of  Lord'Mohun 381 

Debates  on  the  India  Trade  ;  Supply 384 

Ways  and  Means  ;  Land  Tax , 385 

|  Origin  of  the  National  Debt 390 

Parliamentary  Reform 401 



The  Place  Bill 407 

The  Triennial  Bill  ;  1693 411  first  Parliamentary  Discussion  on  the  Libeity  of  the  Press  415 

\  State  of  Ireland 428 

The  King  refuses  to  pass  the  Triennial  Bill 433 

Ministei-ial  Arrangements 436 

The  King  goes  to  Holland  ;  A  Session  of  Parliament  in  Scot- 
land   439 


State  of  the  Court  of  Saint  Germains 444 

Feeling  of  the  Jacobites.  Compounders  and  Non-Compounders  448 

Change  of  Ministry  at  Saint  Germains  :  Middleton 451 

New  Declaration  put  forth  by  James 454 

Effect  of  the  New  Declaration 456 

French  preparations  for  the  Campaign  ;  Institution  of  the 

Order  of  Saint  Lewis ;  Middleton's  Account  of  Versailles.. .  458 

William's  Preparations  for  the  Campaign 4G1 

Lewis  takes  the  Field 462 

Lewis  returns  to  Versailles 463 

Manoeuvres  of  Luxemburg '. ,. 465 

Battle  of  Landen , '. 466 

Miscarriage  of  the  Smyrna  Fleet 473 

Excitement  in  London 476 

Jacobite  Libels  :  William  Anderton 477 

Writings  and  Artifices  of  the  Jacobites 480 

Conduct  of  Caermarthen 483 

VNew  Charter  granted  to  the  East  India  Company 484 

jjReturn  of  William  to  England :  military  Successes  of  France  486 

Distress  of  France 487 

A  Ministry  necessary  to  Parliamentary  Government 492 

The  First  Ministry  gradually  formed 404 

Sunderland 495 

Sunderland  advises  the  King  to  give  the  preference  to  the 

Whigs  ;  Reasons  for  preferring  the  Whigs 500 

Chiefs  of  the  Whig  Party  ;  Russell 502 

Somers 503 

Montague 506 

\Wharton..  ...  510 



Chiefs  of  the  Tory  Party  ;  Harley 514 

Foley  ;  Howe 519 

Meeting  of  Parliament ;  Debates  about  the  Naval  Miscarriages  521 
Russell  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  ;  Retirement  of  Notting- 
ham     523 

Shrewsbury  refuses  Office 524 

Debates  about  the  Trade  with  India 525 

Bill  for  the  Regulation  of  Trials  in  Cases  of  Treason ;  Trien- 
nial Bill 528 

Place  Bill 531 

Bill  for  the  Naturalization  of  Foreign  Protestants , . . .  535 

Supply 537 

Ways  and  Means  :  Lottery  Loan    538 

1694  ;  the  Bank  of  England 540 

Prorogation  of  Parliament :  Ministerial  Arrangements  ;  Shrews- 
bury Secretary  of  State . 552 

New  Titles  bestowed 554 

French  Plan  of  War ;  English  Plan  of  War 555 

Expedition  against  Brest 557 

Naval  Operations  in  the  Mediterranean 561 

War  by  Land 563 

Complaints  of  Trenchard's  Administration 564 

The  Lancashi  re  Prosecutions 565 

Meeting  of  the  Parliament  ;  Death  of  Tillotson 570 

Tenison  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  ;  Debates  on  the  Lancashire 

Prosecutions 571 

Place   Bill  ;  Bill  for  the  Regulation   of   Trials  in    Cases   of 

Treason  ;  The  Triennial  Bill  passed 574 

Death  of  Mary 575 

Funeral  of  Mary 579 

Greenwich  Hospital  founded 580 



WILLIAM  had  been,  during  the  whole  spring,  impatiently  ex- 
pected in  Ulster.  The  Protestant  settlements  along  the  coast 
of  that  province  had,  in  the  course  of  the  month  of  May,  been 
repeatedly  agitated  by  false  reports  of  his  arrival. 

It  was  not,  however,  till  the  afternoon  of  the  fourteenth  of 
June  that  he  landed  at  Carrickfergus.  The  inhabitants  of 
the  town  crowded  the  main  street  and  greeted  him  with  loud 
acclamations :  but  they  caught  only  a  glimpse  of  him.  As  soon 
as  he  was  on  dry  ground  he  mounted  and  set  off  for  Belfast. 
On  the  road  he  was  met  by  Schomberg.  The  meeting  took 
place  close  to  a  white  house,  the  only  human  dwelling  then  visi- 
ble, in  the  space  of  many  miles,  on  the  dreary  strand  of  the 
estuary  of  the  Laggan.  A  village  and  a  cotton  mill  now  rise 
where  the  white  house  then  stood  alone  :  and  all  the  shore  is 
adorned  by  a  gay  succession  of  country  houses,  shrubberies, 
and  flower  bedi.  Belfast  has  become  one  of  the  greatest  and 
most  flourishing  seats  of  industry  in  the  British  isles.  A  busy 
population  of  a  hundred  thousand  souls  is  collected  there.  The 
duties  annually  paid  at  the  Custom  House  exceed  the  duties 
annually  paid  at  the  Custom  House  of  London  in  the  most  pros- 
perous years  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second.  Other  Irish 
towns  may  present  more  picturesque  forms  to  the  eye.  But 
Belfast  is  the  only  large  Irish  town  in  which  the  traveller  is 
not  disgusted  by  the. loathsome  aspect  and  odour  of  long  lines  of 
human  dens  far  inferior  in  comfort  and  cleanliness  to  the  dwell- 


ings  which,  in  happier  countries,  are  provided  for  cattle.  No 
other  large  Irish  town  is  so  well  cleaned,  so  well  paved,  so  bril- 
liantly lighted.  The  place  of  domes  and  spires  is  supplied  by 
edifices,  less  pleasing  to  the  taste,  but  not  less  indicative  of 
prosperity,  huge  factories,  towering  many  stories  above  the 
chimneys  of  the  houses,  and  resounding  with  the  roar  of 
machinery.  The  Belfast  which  William  entered  was  a  small 
English  settlement  of  about  three  hundred  houses,  commanded 
by  a  castle  which  has  long  disappeared,  the  seat  of  the  noble 
family  of  Chichester.  In  this  mansion,  which  is  said  to  have 
borne  some  resemblance  to  the  palace  of  Whitehall,  and  which 
was  celebrated  for  its  terraces  and  orchards  stretching  down  to 
the  river  side,  preparations  had  been  made  for  the  King's  re- 
ception. He  was  welcomed  at  the  North  Gate  by  the  magis- 
trates and  burgesses  in  their  robes  of  office.  The  multitude 
pressed  on  his  carriage  with  shouts  of  "  God  save  the  Protes- 
tant King."  For  the  town  was  one  of  the  strongholds  of  the 
Reformed  Faith  ;  and,  when,  two  generations  later,  the  inhabi- 
tants were,  for  the  first  time,  numbered,  it  was  found,  that  the 
Roman  Catholics  were  not  more  than  one  in  fifteen.* 

The  night  came :  but  the  Protestant  counties  were  awake  and 
up.  A  royal  salute  had  been  fired  from  the  castle  of  Belfast. 
It  had  been  echoed  and  reechoed  by  guns  which  Schomberg  had 
placed  at  wide  intervals  for  the  purpose  of  conveying  signals 
from  post  to  post.  Wherever  the  peal  was  heard,  it  was  known 
that  King  William  was  come.  Before  midnight  all  the  heights 
of  Antrim  and  Down  were  blazing  with  bonfires.  The  light 
was  seen  across  the  bays  of  Carlingford  and  DuiTdalk,  and  gave 
notice  to  the  outposts  of  the  enemy  that  the  decisive  hour  was 
at  hand.  Within  forty-eight  hours  after  William  had  landed, 
James  set  out  from  Dublin  for  the  Irish  camp,  which  was 
pitched  near  the  northern  frontier  of  Leinster.f 

*  London  Gazette,  June  19, 1690  ;  History  of  the  Wars  in  Ireland  by  an  Officer 
in  the  Royal  Army,  1690  ;  Villare  Hibernicum,  1690  ;  Story's  Impartial  History 
1C91 ;  Historical  Collections  relating  to  the  town  of  Belfast,   1817.    This  work 
contains  curious  extracts  from  MSS.  of  the  seventeenth  century.    In  the  British 
Museum  is  a  map  of  Belfast  made  in  1685,  so  exact  that  the  houses  may  b<? 

*  Lauzun  to  Louvois,  June  16-26.    The  messenger  who  brought  the  news  to 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  15 

In  Dublin  the  agitation  was  fearful.  None  could  doubt  that 
the  decisive  crisis  was  approaching;  and  the  agony  of  suspense 
stimulated  to  the  highest  point  the  passions  of  both  the  hostile 
estates.  The  majority  could  easily  detect,  in  the  looks  and  tones 
of  the  oppressed  minority,  signs  which  indicated  the  hope  of  a 
speedy  deliverance  and  of  a  terrible  revenge.  Simon  Luttrell, 
to  whom  the  care  of  the  capital  was  entrusted,  hastened  to  take 
such  precautions  as  fear  and  hatred  dictated.  A  proclamation 
appeared,  enjoining  all  Protestants  to  remain  in  their  houses 
from  nightfall  to  dawn,  and  prohibiting  them,  on  pain  of  death, 
from  assembling  in  any  place  or  for  any  purpose  to  the  number  of 
more  than  five.  No  indulgence  was  granted  even  to  those  di- 
vines of  the  Established  Church  who  had  never  ceased  to  teach 
the  doctrine  of  nonresistance.  Doctor  William  King,  who  had, 
after  long  holding  out,  lately  begun  to  waver  in  his  political 
creed,  was  committed  to  custody.  There  was  no  gaol  large 
enough  to  hold  one  half  of  these  whom  the  governor  suspected 
of  evil  designs.  The  College  and  several  parish  churches  were 
used  as  prisons;  and  into  those  buildings  men  accused  of  no 
crime  but  their  religion  were  crowded  in  such  numbers  that  they 
could  hardly  breathe.* 

The  two  rival  princes  meanwhile  were  busied  in  collecting 
their  forces.  Loughbrickland  was  the  place  appointed  by  Wil- 
liam for  the  rendezvous  of  the  scattered  divisions  of  his  army. 
While  his  troops  were  assembling,  he  exerted  himself  indefat- 
igably  to  improve  the  discipline  and  to  provide  for  their  sub- 
sistance.  He  had  brought  from  England  two  hundred  thousand 
pounds  in  money,  and  a  great  quantity  of  ammunition  and  pro- 
visions. Pillaging  was  prohibited  under  severe  penalties.  At 
the  same  time  supplies  were  liberally  dispensed ;  and  all  the 
paymasters  of  regiments  were  directed  to  send  in  their  accounts 
without  delay,  in  order  that  there  might  be  no  arrears.!  Thomas 

Lauzun  had  heard  the  guns  and  seen  the  bonfires.  History  of  the  Wars  in  Ire- 
land by  an  Officer  of  the  Royal  Army,  1690  ;  Life  of  James  ii.  302,  Orig.  Mem.  ; 
Buniet  ii.  47-  Burnet  is  strangely  mistaken  when  he  says  that  William  had 
heen  six  days  in  Ireland  before  his  arrival  was  known  to  James. 

*  A  True  and  Perfect  Journal  of  the  A  flairs  of  Ireland  by  a  Person  of  Quality, 
1690  ;  King  iii.  18.  Lnttrell's  proclamation  will  be  found  iu  King's  Appendix. 

t  Villare  Hibernicum,  1690. 


Coningsby,  Member  of  Parliament  for  Leominster,  a  busy 
and  unscrupulous  Whig,  accompanied  the  King,  and  acted  as 
Paymaster  General.  It  deserves  to  be  mentioned  that  William, 
at  this  time,  authorised  the  Collector  of  Customs  at  Belfast  to 
pay  every  year  twelve  hundred  pounds  into  the  hands  of  some 
of  the  principal  dissenting  ministers  of  Down  and  Antrim,  who 
were  to  be  trustees  for  their  brethren.  The  King  declared  that 
lie  bestowed  this  sum  on  the  nonconformist  divines,  partly 
as  a  reward  for  their  eminent  loyalty  to  him,  and  partly  as 
a  compensation  for  their  recent  losses.  Such  was  the  origin  of 
that  donation  which  is  still  annually  bestowed  by  the  government 
on  the  Presbyterian  clergy  of  ULter.* 

William  was  all  himself  again.  His  spirits,  depressed  by 
eighteen  months  passed  in  dull  state,  amidst  factions  and  in- 
trigues which  he  but  half  understood,  rose  high  as  soon  as  he  was 
surrounded  by  tents  and  standards. f  It  was  strange  to  see  how 
rapidly  this  man,  so  unpopular  at  Westminster,  obtained  a  com- 
plete mastery  over  the  hearts  of  his  brethren  in  arms.  They  ob- 
served with  delight  that,  infirm  as  he  was,  he  took  his  share  of 
every  hardship  which  they  underwent ;  that  he  thought  more  of 
their  comfort  than  of  his  own  ;  that  he  sharply  reprimanded 
some  officers,  who  were  so  anxious  to  procure  luxuries  for  his 
table  as  to  forget  the  wants  of  the  common  soldiers  ;  that  he 
never  once,  from  the  day  on  which  he  took  the  field,  lodged  in 
a  house,  but,  even  in  the  neighbourhood  of  cities  and  palaces 
slept  in  his  small  travelling  hut  of  wood  ;  that  no  solicitations 
could  induce  him,  on  a  hot  day  and  in  a  high  wind,  to  move  out 
of  the  choking  cloud  of  dust,  which  overhung  the  line  of  march, 
and  which  severely  tried  lungs  less  delicate  than  his.  Every 
man  under  his  command  became  familiar  with  his  looks  and  with 
his  voice  ;  for  there  was  not  a  regiment  which  he  did  not  inspect 
with  minute  attention.  His  pleasant  looks  and  sayings  were 
long  remembered.  One  brave  soldier  has  recorded  in  his  jour- 
nal the  kind  and  courteous  manner  in  which  a  basket  of  the  first 

*  The  order  addressed  to  the  Collector  of  Customs  will  be  found  in  Dr.  Reid's 
History  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Ireland. 

t  "La  gayet^peinte  sur  son  visage,"  says  Dumont.  who  saw  him  at  Belfast, 
u  nous  tit  tout  esperer  pour  les  heureux  succed  de  la  campagiie." 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  17 

cherries  of  the  year  was  accepted  from  him  by  the  King,  and 
the  sprightliness  with  which  His  Majesty  conversed  at  supper 
with  those  who  stood  round  the  table.* 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  June,  the  tenth  day  after  "William's 
landing,  he  marched  southward  from  Loughbrickland  with  all  his 
forces.  He  was  fully  determined  to  take  the  first  opportunity 
of  fighting.  Schombercr  and  several  other  officers  recommended 

o  o  o 

caution  and  delay.  But  the  King  answered  that  he  had  not 
come  to  Ireland  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet.  Tho 
event  seems  to  prove  that  he  judged  rightly  as  a  general.  That 
he  judged  rightly  as  a  statesman  cannot  be  doubted.  He  knew 
that  the  English  nation  was  discontented  with  the  way  in  which 
the  war  had  hitherto  been  conducted,  that  nothing  but  rapid  and 
splendid  success  could  revive  the  enthusiasm  of  his  friends  and 
quell  the  spirit  of  his  enemies,  and  that  a  defeat  could  scarcely 
be  more  injurious  to  his  fame  and  to  his  interests  than  a  languid 
and  indecisive  campaign. 

The  country  through  which  he  advanced  had,  during  eigh- 
teen months,  been  fearfully  wasted  both  by  soldiers  and  by 
Rapparees.  The  cattle  had  been  slaughtered  :  the  plantations 
had  been  cut  down  :  the  fences  and  houses  were  in  ruins.  Not 
a  human  being  was  to  be  found  near  the  road,  except  a  few 
naked  and  meagre  wretches  who  had  no  food  but  the  husks  of 
oats,  and  who  were  seen  picking  those  husks,  like  chickens, 
from  amidst  dust  and  cinders,  f  Yet,  even  under  such  disadvan- 
tages, the  natnral  fertility  of  the  country,  the  rich  green  of  the 
earth,  the  bays  and  rivers  so  admirably  fitted  for  trade,  could 
not  but  strike  the  King's  observant  eye.  Perhaps  he  thought 
how  different  an  aspect  that  unhappy  region  would  have  pre- 
sented if  it  had  been  blessed  with  such  a  government  and  such 
a  religion  as  had  made  his  native  Holland  the  wonder  of 
the  world ;  how  endless  a  succession  of  pleasure  houses,  tulip 
gardens,  and  dairy  farms  would  have  lined  the  road  from  Lis- 
burn  to  Belfast ;  how  many  hundreds  of  barges  would  have  been 

*  Story's  Impartial  Account ;  MS.  Journal  of  Colonel  Beliingliam  ;  The  Royal 

t  Story's  Impartial  Account. 

VOL.  IV.— 2 

18  HISTORl    OF    ENGLAND. 

constantly  passing  up  and  down  the  Laggan  ;  what  a  forest  of 
masts  would  have  bristled  in  the  desolate  port  of  Newry  ;  and 
what  vast  warehouses  and  stately  mansions  would  have  covered 
the  space  occupied  by  the  noisome  alleys  of  Dundalk.  "  The 
country,"  he  was  heard  to  say,  "  is  worth  fighting  for." 

The  original  intention  of  James  seems  to  have  been  to  try 
the  chances  of  a  pitched  field  on  the  border  between  Leinster 
and  Ulster.  But  this  design  was  abandoned,  in  consequence,  ap- 
parently, of  the  representations  of  Lauzun,  who,  though  very  li:- 
tle  disposed  and  very  little  qualified  to  conduct  a  campaign  on  the 
Fabian  system,  had  the  admonitions  of  Louvois  still  in  his  ears.* 
James,  though  resolved  not  to  give  up  Dublin  without  a  battle, 
consented  to  retreat  till  he  should  reach  some  spot  where  he 
might  have  the  vantage  of  ground.  When  therefore  William's 
advanced  guard  reached  Dundalk,  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  the 
Irish  army,  except  a  great  cloud  of  dust  which  was  slowly  roll- 
ing southward  towards  Ardee.  The  English  halted  one  night 
near  the  ground  on  which  Schomberg's  camp  had  been  pitched 
in  the  preceding  year  ;  and  many  sad  recollections  were  awak- 
ened by  the  sight  of  that  dreary  marsh,  the  sepulchre  of  thou- 
sands of  brave  men.f 

Still  William  continued  to  push  forward,  and  still  the  Irish 
receded  before  him,  till,  on  the  morning  of  Monday,  the  thir- 
teenth of  June,  his  army,  marching  in  three  columns,  reached 
the  summit  of  a  rising  ground  near  the  southern  frontier  of  the 
county  of  Louth.  Beneath  lay  a  valley,  now  so  rich  and  so 
cheerful  that  the  Englishman  who  gazes  on  it  may  imagine 
himself  to  be  in  one  of  the  most  highly  favoured  parts  of  his  own 
highly  favoured  country.  Fields  of  wheat,  woodlands,  meadows 
bright  with  daisies  and  clover  slope  gently  down  to  the  edge  of 
the  Boy ne.  That  bright  and  tranquil  stream,  the  boundary  of 
Louth  and  Meath,  having  flowed  many  miles  between  green 
banks  crowned  by  modern  palaces,  and  by  the  ruined  keeps  of 
old  Norman  barons  of  the  pale,  is  here  about  to  mingle  wi-h  *-lia 

*  Lauzun  to  Louvois.  ?"-"-?'  1690  ;  Life  of  Jamea,  ii.  393,  Orig.  Mem. 

July  3 

t  Story's  Impartial  account ;  Dumoiit  M$. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  19 

sea.  Five  miles  to  the  west  of  the  place  from  which  William 
looked  down  on  the  river,  now  stands,  on  a  verdaut  bauk,  amidst 
noble  woods  Slane  Castle,  the  mansion  of  the  Marquess  of  Con- 
yno-ham.  Two  miles  to  the  east,  a  cloud  of  smoke  lro.n  factories 
and  steam  vessels  overhangs  the  busy  town  and  port  of  Drogh- 
eda.  On  the  Meath  side  of  the  Boyne,  the  ground,  still  all  corn, 
grass,  flowers,  and  foliage,  rises  with  a  gentle  swell  to  an  eminence 
surmounted  by  a  conspicuous  tuft  of  ash  trees  which  overshades 
the  ruined  church  and  desolate  graveyard  of  Donore.* 

In  the  seventeenth  century  the  landscape  presented  a  very 
different  aspect.  The  traces  of  art  and  industry  were  few. 
Scarcely  a  vessel  was  on  the  river  except  those  rude  coracles  of 
wickerwork  covered  with  the  skins  of  horses,  in  which  the  Celtic 
peasantry  fished  for  trout  and  salmon.  Drogheda,  now  peopled 
by  twenty  thousand  industrious  inhabitants,  was  a  small  knot  of 
narrow,  crooked,  and  filthy  lanes,  encircled  by  a  ditch  and  a 
mound.  The  houses  were  built  of  wood  with  high  gables  and 
projecting  upper  stories,  Without  the  walls  of  the  town,  scarcely 
a  dwelling  was  to  be  seen  except  at  a  place  called  Oldbridge. 
At  Oldbridge  the  river  was  fordable  ;  and  on  the  south  of  the 
ford  were  a  few  mud  cabins,  and  a  single  house  built  of  more 
solid  materials. 

When  William  caught  sight  of  the  valley  of  the  Boyne,  he 
could  not  suppress  an  exclamation  and  gesture  of  delight.  He 
had  been  apprehensive  that  the  enemy  would  avoid  a  decisive 
action,  and  would  protract  the  war  till  the  antumnal  rains 
should  return  with  pestilence  in'their  train.  He  was  now  at  ease. 
It  was  plain  that  the  contest  would  be  sharp  and  short.  The 
pavilion  of  James  was  pitched  on  the  eminence  of  Donore.  The 
flags  of  the  House  of  Stuart  and  of  the  House  of  Bourbon  waved 
together  in  defiance  on  the  walls  of  Drogheda.  All  the  southern 
bank  of  the  river  was  lined  by  the  camp  and  batteries  of  the 
hostile  army.  Thousands  of  armed  men  were  moving  about 
among  the  tents  ;  and  every  one,  horse  soldier  or  foot  soldier, 

*  Much  interesting  information  respecting  the  field  of  battle  and  the  sur- 
rounding country  will  be  found  in  Mr.  Wilde's  pleasing  volume  entitled  "  The 
Beauties  of  the  Boyne  and  Black  water.'' 


French  or  Irish,  had  a  white  badge  in  his  hat.  That  colour  had 
been  chosen  in  compliment  to  the  House  of  Bourbon.  "  I  am 
glad  to  see  you,  gentlemen,"  said  the  King,  as  his  keen  eye 
surveyed  the  Irish  lines.  "  If  you  escape  me  now  the  fault  will 
be  mine."  * 

Each  of  the  contending  princes  had  some  advantages  over 
his  rival.  James,  standing  in  the  defensive  behind  entrench- 
ments, with  a  river  before  him,  had  the  stronger  position  :  t  but 
his  troops  were  inferior  both  in  number  and  in  quality  to  those 
which  were  opposed  to  him.  He  probably  had  thirty  thousand 
men.  About  a  third  part  of  this  force  consisted  of  excellent 
French  infantry  and  excellent  Irish  cavalry.  But  the  rest  of 
his  army  was  the  scoff  of  all  Europe.  The  Irish  dragoons  were 
bad ;  the  Irish  foot  worse.  It  was  said  that  their  ordinary  way 
of  fighting  was  to  discharge  their  pieces  once,-and  then  to  run 
away  bawling  "  Quarter  "  and  "  Murder."  Their  inefficiency 
was,  in  that  age,  commonly  imputed,  both  by  their  enemies  and 
by  their  allies,  to  natural  poltroonery.  How  little  ground  there 
was  for  such  an  imputation  has  since  been  signally  proved  by 
many  brave  achievements  in  every  part  of  the  globe.  It  ought 
indeed,  even  in  the  seventeenth  century,  to  have  occurred  to 
reasonable  men,  that  a  race  which  furnished  some  of  the  best 
horse  soldiers  in  the  world,  would  certainly,  with  judicious  train- 
ing, furnish  good  foot  soldiers.  But  the  Irish  foot  soldiers  had 
not  merely  not  been  well  trained  :  they  had  been  elaborately  ill 
trained.  The  greatest  of  our  generals  repeatedly  and  emphati- 
cally declared  that  even  the  admirable  army  which  fought 
its  way,  under  his  command,  from  Torres  Yedras  to  Toulouse, 
would,  if  he  had  suffered  it  to  contract  habits  of  pillage,  have 

*  Memorandum  in  the  handwriting  of  Alexander,  Earl  of  Marchmont.  He 
derived  his  information  from  Lord  Selkirk,  who  was  in  "William's  army. 

t  James  says  (Life,  ii.  393,  Orig.  Mem.)  that  the  country  afforded  no  better 
position.  King,  in  a  thanksgiving  sermon  which  he  preached  at  Dublin  after  the 
close  of  the  campaign,  told  his  hearers  that  "  the  advantage  of  the  post  of  the 
Irish  was,  by  a.11  intelligent  men,  reckoned  above  three  to  one."  See  King's 
Thanksgiving  Sermon,  preached  on  Nov.  16,  1690,  before  the  Lords  Justices. 
This  is,  no  doubt,  an  absurd  exaggeration.  But  M.  de  la  Hoguette,  one  of  the 
principal  French  officers  who  was  present  at  the  Battle  of  the  Boyne,  infornif  d 
I  ouvois  that  the  Irish  army  occupied  a  good  defensive  position.  Letter  of  I  a 
Hoguette  from  Limerick,  1690. 


become,  in  a  few  weeks,  unfit  for  all  military  purposes.  What 
then  was  likely  to  be  the  character  of  troops  who,  from  the  day 
on  which  they  enlisted,  were  not  merely  permitted,  but  invited, 
to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  pay  by  marauding  ?  They  were, 
as  might  have  been  expected,  a  mere  mob,  furious  indeed,  and 
clamorous  in  their  zeal  for  the  cause  which  they  had  espoused, 
but  incapable  of  opposing  a  steadfast  resistance  to  a  well  ordered 
force.  In  truth,  all  that  the  discipline,  if  it  is  to  be  so  called,  of 
James's  army  had  done  for  the  Celtic  kerne  had  been  to  debase 
and  enervate  him.  After  eighteen  mouths  of  nominal  soldier- 
ship, he  was  positively  farther  from  being  a  soldier  than  on  the 
day  on  which  he  quitted  his  hovel  for  the  camp. 

William  had  under  his  command  near  thirty -six  thousand 
men,  born  in  many  lands,  and  speaking  many  tongues.  Scarcely 
one  Protestant  Church,  scarcely  one  Protestant  nation,  was 
unrepresented  in  the  army  which  a  strange  series  of  events  had 
brought  to  fight  for  the  Protestant  religion  in  the  remotest  is- 
land of  the  west.  About  half  the  troops  were  natives  of  Eng- 
land. Ormond  was  there  with  the  Life  Guards,  and  Oxford 
with  the  Blues.  Sir  John  Lanier,  an  officer  who  had  acquired 
military  experience  on  the  Continent,  and  whose  prudence  was 
held  in  high  esteem,  was  at  the  head  of  the  Queen's  regiment 
of  horse,  now  the  First  Dragoon  Guards.  There  were  Beau- 
mont's foot,  who  had,  in  defiance  of  the  mandate  of  James,  re- 
fused to  admit  Irish  Papists  among  them,  and  Hastings's  foot, 
who  had,  on  the  disastrous  day  of  Killiecrankie,  maintained  the 
military  reputation  of  the  Saxon  race.  There  were  the  two 
Tangier  battalions,  hitherto  known  only  by  deeds  of  violence  and 
rapine,  but  destined  to  begin  on  the  following  morning  a  long 
career  of  glory.  Two  fine  English  regiments,  which  had  been  in 
the  service  of  the  States  General,  and  had  often  looked  death  in 
the  face  under  William's  leading,  followed  him  in  this  campaign, 
not  only  as  their  general,  but  as  their  native  King.  They  now 
rank  as  the  fifth  and  sixth  of  the  line.  The  former  was  led  by 
an  officer  who  had  no  skill  in  the  higher  parts  of  military  science 
but  whom  the  whole  army  allowed  to  be  the  bravest  of  all  the' 
brave,  John  Cutts.  The  Scotch  footguards  marched  under  the 


command  of  their  countryman  James  Douglas.  Conspicuous 
among  the  Dutch  troops  were  Portland's  and  Ginkell's  Horse, 
and  Solmes's  Blue  regiment,  consisting  of  two  thousand  of  the 
finest  infantry  in  Europe.  Germany  had  sent  to  the  field  some 
warriors  sprung  from  her  noblest  houses.  Prince  George  of 
Hesse  Darmstadt,  a  gallant  youth,  who  was  serving  his  appren- 
ticeship in  the  military  art,  rode  near  the  King.  A  strong 
brigade  of  Danish  mercenaries  was  commanded  by  Duke  Charles 
Frederic  of  Wurtemberg.  It  was  reported  that  of  all  the  sol- 
diers of  William  these  were  most  dreaded  by  the  Irish.  For 
centuries  of  Saxon  domination  had  not  effaced  the  recollection 
of  the  violence  and  cruelty  of  the  Scandinavian  sea  kings ;  and 
an  ancient  prophecy  that  the  Danes  would  one  day  destroy  the 
children  of  the  soil  was  still  repeated  with  superstitious  horror.* 
Among  the  foreign  auxiliaries  were  a  Brandenburg  regiment 
and  a  Finland  regiment.  But  in  that  great  array,  so  variously 
composed,  were  two  bodies  of  men  animated  by  a  spirit  peculiar- 
ly fierce  and  implacable,  the  Huguenots  of  France  thirsting 
for  the  blood  of  the  French,  and  the  Englishry  of  Ireland  im- 
patient to  trample  down  the  Irish.  The  ranks  of  the  refugees 
had  been  effectually  purged  of  spies  and  traitors,  and  were  now 
made  up  of  men  such  as  had  contended  in  the  preceding  century 
against  the  power  of  the  House  of  Valois  and  the  genius  of  the 
House  of  Lorraine.  All  the  boldest  spirits  of  the  unconquerable 
colony  had  repaired  to  William's  camp.  Mitchelburne  was  there 
with  the  stubborn  defenders  of  Londonderry,  and  Wolseley  with 
the  warriors  who  had  raised  the  unanimous  shout  of  "  Advance  ' 
on  the  day  of  Newton  Butler.  Sir  Albert  Conyngham,  the 
ancestor  of  the  noble  family  whose  seat  now  overlooks  the 
field  of  battle,  had  brought  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Lough 
Erne  a  regiment  of  dragoons  which  still  glories  in  the  name  of 
Enniskillen,  and  which  has  proved  on  the  shores  of  the  Euxine 
that  it  has  not  degenerated  since  the  day  of  the  Boyne.f 

Walker,  notwithstanding  his  advanced  age  and  his  peaceful 

*  Luttrell's  Diary,  March  1690. 

t  See  the  Historical  records  of  the  Bepiments  of  the  British  army,  and  Stcry'8 
list  of  the  army  of  William  as  it  passed  in  review  at  Finglass,  a  week  after  the 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  23 

profession,  accompanied  the  men  of  Londonderry,  and  tried 
to  animate  their  zeal  by  exhortation  and  by  example.  He  was 
now  a  great  prelate.  Ezekiel  Hopkins  had  taken  refuge  from 
Popish  persecutors  and  Presbyterian  rebels  in  the  city  of  Lon- 
don, had  brought  himself  to  swear  allegiance  to  the  government, 
had  obtained  a  cure,  and  had  died  in  the  performance  of  the 
humble  duties  of  a  parish  priest.*  William,  on  his  march 
through  Louth,  learned  that  the  rich  see  of  Deny  was  at  his 
disposal.  He  instantly  made  choice  of  Walker  to  be  the  new 
Bishop.  The  brave  old  man,  during  the  few  hours  of  life  which 
remained  to  him, was  overwhelmed  with  salutations  and  congratu- 
lations. Unhappily  he  had,  during  the  siege  in  which  he  had  so 
highly  distinguished  himself,contracted  a  passion  for  war  ;  and  he 
easily  persuaded  himself  that,  in  indulging  this  passion,  he  was 
discharging  a  duty  to  his  country  and  his  religion.  He  ought 
to  have  remembered  that  the  peculiar  circumstances  which  had 
justified  him  in  becoming  a  combatant  had  ceased  to  exist,  and 
that,  in  a  disciplined  army  led  by  generals  of  long  experience 
and  great  fame,  a  fighting  divine  was  likely  to  give  less  help 
than  scandal.  The  Bishop  elect  was  determined  to  be  wher- 
ever danger  was  ;  and  the  way  in  which  he  exposed  himself 
excited  the  extreme  disgust  of  his  royal  patron,  who  hated  a 
meddler  almost  as  much  as  a  coward.  A  soldier  who  ran  away 
from  a  battle  and  a  gownsman  who  pushed  himself  into  a  battle 
were  the  two  objects  which  most  strongly  excited  William's 

It  was  still  early  in  the  day.  The  King  rode  slowly  along 
the  northern  bank  of  the  river,  and  closely  examined  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Irish,  from  whom  he  was  sometimes  separated  by  an 
interval  of  little  more  than  two  hundred  feet.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  Schomberg,  Ormond,  Sidney,  Solmes,  Prince  George 
of  Hesse,  Coningsby,  and  others.  "Their  army  is, but  small :" 
said  one  of  the  Dutch  officers.  Indeed  it  did  not  appear  to  con- 
gist  of  more  than  sixteen  thousand  men.  But  it  was  well  known, 
from  the  reports  brought  by  deserters,  that  many  regiments 

*  See  his  Funeral  Sermon  preached  at  the  church  of  Saint  Mary  Aldermary 
•  on  the  21th  of  June  1690. 


were  concealed  from  view  by  the  undulations  of  the  ground, 
"  They  may  be  stronger  than  they  look,"  said  William  ;  "  but, 
weak  or  strong,  I  will  soon  know  all  about  them."  * 

At  length  he  alighte:!  at  a  spot  nearly  opposite  toOldbridge, 
sate  down  on  the  turf  to  rest  himself,  and  called  for  breakfast. 
The  sumpter  hor?es  were  unloaded  :  the  canteens  were  opened  ; 
and  a  tablecloth  was  spread  on  the  grass.  The  place  is  marked 
by  an  obelisk,  built  while  many  veterans  who  could  well  remem- 
ber the  events  of  that  day  were  still  living. 

While  William  was  at  his  repast,  a  group  of  horsemen  ap- 
peared close  to  the  water  on  the  opposite  shore.  Among  them 
his  attendants  could  discern  some  who  had  once  been  eonspic- 
IK  is  at  reviews  in  Hyde  Park  and  at  balls  in  the  gallery  of 
Whitehall,  the  youthful  Berwick,  the  small,  fair-haired  Lauzun, 
Tyrconnel,  once  admired  by  maids  of  honour  as  the  model  of 
nrinly  vigour  and  beauty,  but  now  bent  down  by  years  and  crip- 
pled by  gout,  and,  overtopping  all,  the  stately  head  of  Sarsfield. 

The  chiefs  of  the  Irish  army  soon  discovered  that  the  per- 
son who,  surrounded  by  a  splendid  circle,  was  breakfasting  on 
the  opposite  bank,  was  the  Prince  of  Orange.  They  sent  for 
artillery.  Two  field  pieces,  screened  from  view  by  a  troop  of 
cavalry,  were  brought  down  almost  to  the  brink  of  the  river, 
and  placed  behind  a  hedge.  William,  who  had  just  risen  from 
his  meal,  and  was  again  in  the  saddle,  was  the  mark  of  both 
guns.  The  first  shot  struck  one  of  the  holsters  of  Prince  George 
of  Hesse,  and  brought  his  horse  to  the  ground.  "  Ah  I "  cried 
the  King:  "the  poor  Prince  is  killed."  As  the  words  passed 
his  lips,  he  was  himself  hit  by  a  second  ball,  a  sixpounder.  It 
merely  tore  his  coat,  grazed  his  shoulder,  and  drew  two  or  three 
ounces  of  blood.  Both  armies  saw  that  the  shot  had  taken  ef- 
fect ;  for  the  King  sank  down  for  a  moment  on  his  horse's  neck. 
A  yell  of  exultation  rose  from  the  Irish  camp.  The  English 
and  their  allies  were  in  dismay.  Solmes  flung  himself  prostrate 
on  the  earth,  and  burst  into  tears.  But  William's  deportment 
soon  reassured  his  friends.  "  There  is  no  harm  done,"  he  said  r 

*  Story's  nnpartial  History  ;  History  of  the  Wars  in  Ireland  by  an.  Officer  of 
the  Royal  Army  ;  Hop  to  the  States  General,  J'1T1C .??•  1690. 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  25 

"  nut  the  bullet  came  quite  near  enough."  Coningsby  put  his 
handkerchief  to  the  wound :  a  surgeon  was  sent  for :  a  plaster 
was  applied ;  and  the  King,  as  soon  as  the  dressing  was  finished, 
rode  round  all  the  posts  of  his  army  amidst  loud  acclamations. 
Such  was  the  energy  of  his  spirit  that,  in  spite  of  his  feeble 
health,  in  spite  of  his  recent  hurt,  he  was  that  day  nineteen  hours 
on  horseback.* 

A  cannonade  was  kept  up  on  both  sides  till  the  evening. 
"William  observed  with  especial  attention  the  effect  produced  by 
the  Irish  shots  on  the  English -regiments  which  had  never  been 
in  action,  and  declared  himself  satisfied  with  the  result.     "  All 
is  right,"  he  said:  "they  stand  fire  well."     Long  after  sunset  [ 
he  made  a  final  inspection  of  his  forces  by  torchlight,  and  gave  | 
orders  that   everything  should  be  ready  for  forcing  a  passage  ! 
across  the  river  on   the   morrow.     Every  soldier  was   to  put  a 
green  hough  in  his  hat.     The  baggage   and  great  coats  were  to 
be  left  under  a  guard.     The  word  was  Westminster. 

The  Ki::g's  resolution  to  attack  the  Irish  was  not  approved 
by  all  his  lieutenants.  Schomberg,  in  particular,  pronounced 
the  experiment  too  hazardous,  and,  when  his  opinion  was  ove/- 
ruled,  retired  to  his  tent  in  no  very  good  humour.  When  the 
order  of  battle  was  delivered  to  him,  he  muttered  that  he  had 
been  more  used  to  give  such  orders  than  to  receive  them.  For 
this  little  fit  of  sullenness,  very  pardonable  in  a  general  who 
had  won  great  victories ,  when  his  master  was  still  a  child,  the 
brave  veteran  made,  on  the  following  morning,  a  noble  atone- 

The  first  of  July  dawned,  a  day  which  has  never  since  re- 
turned without  exciting  strong  emotions  of  very  different  kinds 
iu  the  two  populations  which  divide  Ireland.  The  sun  rose 
bright  and  cloudless.  Soon  after  four  both  armies  were  in  mo- 
tion. William  ordered  his  right  wing,  under  the  command  of 
Meinhart  Schomberg,  one  of  the  Duke's  sons,  to  march  to  the 
bridge  of  Slane,  some  miles  up  the  river,  to  cross  there,  and  to 

*  London  Gazette,  July  7,  1690  ;  Story's  Impartial  History ;  History  of  the 
TVnrs  in  Ireland  by  an  Officer  of  the  Royal  Army:  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary; 
I-orrt  Marchmoiit's  Memorauduin ;  Buruet,  ii.  50,  and  Thanksgiving  Sermou  ; 

Luiuunt  -Mo. 


turn  the  left  flank  of  the  Irish  army.  Meinhart  Schomberg 
was  assisted  by  Portland  and  Douglas.  James,  anticipating 
some  such  design,  had  already  sent  to  the  bridge  a  regiment  of 
dragoons,  commanded  by  Sir  Neil  O'Neil.  O'Neil  behaved  him- 
self like  a  brave  gentleman  :  but  he  soon  received  a  mortal 
wound :  his  men  fled ;  and  the  English  right  wing  passed  the 

This  move  made  Lauzun  uneasy.  What  if  the  English 
right  wing  should  get  into  the  rear  of  the  army  of  James  ?  About 
four  miles  south  of  the  Boyne  was  a  place  called  Duleek,  where 
the  road  to  Dublin  was  so  narrow,  that  two  cars  could  not  pass 
each  other,  and  where  on  both  sides  of  the  road  lay  a  morass 
which  afforded  no  firm  footing.  If  Meinhart  Schomberg  should 
occupy  this  spot,  it  would  be  impossible  for  the  Irish  to  retreat. 
They  must  either  conquer,  or  be  cut  off  to  a  man.  Disturbed 
by  this  apprehension,  the  French  general  marched  with  his 
countrymen  and  with  Sarsfield's  horse  in  the  direction  of  Slaue 
Bridge.  Thus  the  fords  near  Oldbridge  were  left  to  be  defended 
by  the  Irish  alone. 

It  was  now  near  ten  o'clock.  William  put  himself  at  the 
head  of  his  left  wing,  which  was  composed  exclusively  of  cav- 
alry, and  prepared  to  pass  the  river  not  far  above  Drogbeda. 
Tha  centre  of  his  army,  which  consisted  almost  exclusively  of 
foot,  was  entrusted  to  the  command  of  Schomberg,  and  was 
marshalled  opposite  to  Oldbridge.  At  Oldbridge  had  been  col- 
lected the  whole  Irish  army,  foot,  dragoons,  and  horse,  Sarsfield's 
regiment  alone  excepted.  The  Meath  bank  bristled  with  pikes 
and  bayonets.  A  fortification  had  been  made  by  French  engi- 
neers out  of  the  hedges  and  buildings  ;  and  a  breastwork  had 
been  thrown  up  close  to  the  water  side.*  Tyrconnel  was  there  ; 
and  under  him  were  Richard  Hamilton  and  Antrim. 

Schomberg  gave  the  word.  Solmes's  Blues  were  the  first  to 
move.  They  marched  gallantly,  with  drums  beating,  to  the 
brink  of  the  Boyne.  Then  the  drums  stopped  ;  and  the  men, 
ten  abreast,  descended  into  the  water.  Next  plunged  London- 
derry and  Enniskillen.  A  little  to  the  left  of  Londonderry  and 

*  La  Hoguette  to  Louvois,  J^J— J  1690. 

•WILLIAM   AND    MART.  27 

Enniskillen,  Caillemot  crossed,  at  the  head  of  a  long  column  of 
French  refugees.  A  little  to  the  left  of  Caillemot  and  his  refu- 
gees, the  main  body  of  the  English  infantry  struggled  through 
the  river,  up  to  their  armpits  in  water.  Still  further  down  the 
stream  the  Danes  found  another  ford.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
Boyne,  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  was  alive  with  muskets  and 
green  boughs. 

It  was  not  till  the  assailants  had  reached  the  middle  of  the 
channel  that  they  became  aware  of  the  whole  difficulty  and  dan- 
ger of  the  service  in  which  they  were  engaged.  They  had  as 
yet  seen  little  more  than  half  the  hostile  army.  Now  whole  regi- 
ments of  foot  and  horse  seemed  to  start  out  of  the  earth.  A  wild 
shout  of  defiance  rose  from  the  whole  shore :  during  one  mo- 
ment the  event  seemed  doubtful :  but  the  Protestants  pressed 
resolutely  forward  ;  and  in  another  moment  the  whole  Irish  line 
gave  way.  Tyrconnel  looked  on  in  helpless  despair.  He  did 
not  want  personal  courage :  but  his  military  skill  was  so  small 
that  he  hardly  ever  reviewed  his  regiment  in  the  Phoenix  Park 
without  committing  some  blunder  ;  and  to  rally  the  ranks  which 
were  breaking  all  round  him  was  no  task  for  a  general  who  had 
survived  the  energy  of  his  body  and  of  his  mind,  and  yet  had  still 
the  rudiments  of  his  profession  to  learn.  Several  of  his  best  offi- 
cers fell  while  vainly  endeavouring  to  prevail  on  their  soldiers  to 
look  the  Dutch  Blues  in  the  face.  Richard  Hamilton  ordered  a 
body  of  foot  to  fall  on  the  French  refugees,  who  were  still  deep  in 
water.  He  led  the  way,  and,  accompanied  by  some  courageous 
gentlemen,  advanced,  sword  in  hand,  into  the  river.  But  neither 
his  commands  nor  his  example  could  infuse  valour  into  that  mob 
of  cowstealers.  He  was  left  almost  alone,  and  retired  from  the 
bank  in  despair.  Further  down  the  river,  Antrim's  division 
ran  like  sheep  at  the  approach  of  the  English  column.  Whole 
regiments  flung  away  arms,  colours,  and  cloaks,  and  scampered 
off  to  the  hills  without  striking  a  blow  or  firing  a  shot.* 

*  That  I  have  done  no  injustice  to  the  Irish  infantry  and  dragoons  will  appear 
from  the  accounts  which  the  French  officers  who  were  at  the  Boyne  sent  to  their 
government  and  their  families.  La  Hoguette,  writing  hastily  to  Louvois  on  the 
4-1-lth  of  July,  says  ;  "  Je  vous  diray  seulement,  Monseigneur,  que  nous  n'avons 
pas  est£  bating,  mais  que  les  ennemys  ont  chasses  devaiit  eux  les  trouppes  Irian- 
doises  corume  des  moutons,  sans  avoir  essaye  uu  seul  coup  de  mous>iuet." 


It  required  many  years  and  many  heroic  exploits  to  take 
away  the  reproach  which  that  ignominous  rout  left  on  the  Irish 
name.  Yet,  even  before  the  day  closed,  it  was  abundantly 
proved  that  the  reproach  was  unjust.  Richard  Hamilton  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  cavalry,  and,  under  his  command, 
they  made  a  gallant,  though  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  retrieve 
the  day.  They  maintained  a  desperate  fight  in  the  bed  of  the 
river  with  Solmes's  Blues.  They  drove  the  Danish  brigade 
back  into  the  stream.  They  fell  impetuously  on  the  Huguenot 
regiments,  which,  not  being  provided  with  pikes,  then  ordinarily 
used  by  foot  to  repel  horse,  began  to  give  ground.  Caillemot, 
while  encouraging  his  fellow  exiles,  received  a  mortal  wound  in 
the  thigh.  Four  of  his  men  carried  him  back  across  the  ford  to 
his  tent.  As  he  passed,  he  continued  to  urge  forward  the  rear 
ranks  which  were  still  up  to  the  breast  in  the  water.  "  On  ; 
on  ;  my  lads  !  To  glory !  To  glory."  Schomberg,  who  had 
remained  on  the  northern  bank,  and  who  had  thence  watched 
the  progress  of  his  troops  with  the  eye  of  a  general,  now  thought 
that  the  emergency  required  from  him  the  personal  exertion  of 
a  soldier.  Those  who  stood  about  him  besought  him  in  vain  to 
put  on  his  cuirass.  Without  defensive  armour  he  rode  through 

Writing  some  weeks  later  more  fully  from  Limerick,  he  says,  "  J'en  meurs  de 
honte."  He  admits  that  it  would  have  been  no  easy  matter  to  win  the  battle,  at 
best.  "  Mais  il  est  vray  aussi,"  he  adds,  "  que  les  Irlandois  ne  firent  pas  la 
moimlre  resistance,  etpliereiit  sans  tirer  un  seul  coup."  Zurlauben,  Colonel  of 
one  of  the  finest  regiments  in  the  French  service,  wrote  to  the  same  effect,  but 
did  justice  to  the  courage  of  the  Irish  horse,  whom  La  Hoguette  does  not 

There  is  at  the  French  War  Office  a  letter  hastily  scrawled  by  Boisseleau, 
Lauzun's  second  in  command,  to  his  wife  after  the  battle.  He  wrote  thus  :  "  Je 
me  porte  bien,  ma  chere  feme.  Ne  t'inquieste  pas  de  moy.  Nos  Irlandois  n'ont 
rieii  fait  qui  vaille .  Us  out  tous  Iach6  le  pie." 

Desgrigny,  writing  on  the  10-20th  of  July,  assigns  several  reasons  for  the 
defeat.  "  La  premiere  et  la  plus  forte  est  la  f uite  des  Irlandois  qui  sont  en  v£rit6 
des  gens  sur  lesquels  il  ne  faut  pas  compter  du  tout."  In  the  same  letter  he 
says  :  "II  n'est  pas  naturel  de  croire  qu'une  arme'e  de  vingt  cinq  mille  homines 
qui  paroissoit  de  la  meilleure  volonte  dn  monde,  et  qui  a  la  veue  des  ennemis 
faisoit  des  cris  de  joye,  dftt  £tre  entierement  de'faite  sans  avoir  tire'  I'e'pe'e  et  un 
seul  coup  de  mousquet.  II  y  a  eu  tel  regiment  tout  entier  qui  a  laiss^  ses  habits, 
ses  armes,  et  ses  drapeaux  sur  ie  champ  de  bataille,  et  a  gagn6  les  montagnes 
avec  ses  ofnciers." 

I  looked  in  vain  for  the  despatch  in  which  Lauzun  must  have  given  Louvois  a 
detailed  account  of  the  battle. 


the  river,  and  rallied  the  refugees  whom  the  fall  of  Caillemot 
had  dismayed.  "  Come  on,"  he  cried  in  French,  pointing  to 
the  Popish  squadrons  :  "  come  on,  gentlemen  :  there  are  your 
persecutors."  Those  were  his  last  words.  As  he  spoke,  a  hand 
of  Irish  horsemen  rushed  upon  him  and  encircled  him  for  a  mo- 
ment. When  they  retired,  he  was  on  the  ground.  His  friends 
raised  him  :  but  he  was  already  a  corpse.  Two  sabre  wounds  were 
on  his  head  ;  an;l  a  bullet  from  a  carbine  was  lodged  in  his  neck. 
Almost  at  the  same  moment  Walker,  while  exhorting  the  colon- 
ists of  Ulster  to  play  the  men,  was  shot  dead.  During  near 
half  an  hour  the  battle  continued  to  rage  along  the  southern 
shore  of  the  river.  All  was  smoke,  dust,  and  din.  Old  soldiers 
were  heard  to  say  that  they  had  seldom  seen  sharper  work  in 
the  Low  Countries.  But,  just  at  this  conjuncture,  William 
came  up  with  the  left  wing.  He  had  found  much  difficulty  in 
crossing.  The  tide  was  running  fast.  His  charger  had  been 
forced  to  swim,  and  had  been  almost  lost  in  the  mud.  As  soon 
as  the  King  was  on  firm  ground  he  took  his  sword  in  his  left 
hand, — for  his  right  arm  was  stiff  with  his  wound  and  his  band- 
age,— and  led  his  men  to  the  place  where  the  fight  was  the 
hottest.  His  arrival  decided  the  fate  of  the  day.  Yet  the 
Irish  horse  retired  fighting  obstinately.  It  was  long  remembered 
among  the  Protestants  of  Ulster  that,  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult, 
William  rode  to  the  head  of  the  Enniskilleners.  "  What  will 
you  do  for  me  ?  "  he  cried.  He  was  not  immediately  recog- 
nized ;  and  one  trooper,  taking  him  for  an  enemy,  was  about  to 
fire.  William  gently  put  aside  the  carbine.  "  What,"  said  he, 
"  do  you  not  know  your  friends  ?  "  "  It  is  His  Majesty ;  "  said 
the  Colonel.  The  ranks  of  sturdy  Protestant  yeomen  set  up  a 
shout  of  joy.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  William,  "  you  shall  be  my 
guards  today.  I  have  heard  much  of  you.  Let  me  see  something 
of  you."  One  of  the  most  remarkable  peculiarities  of  this 
man,  ordinarily  so  saturnine  and  reserved,  was  that  danger 
acted  on  him  like  wine,  opened  his  heart,  loosened  his  tongue, 
and  took  away  all  appearance  of  constraint  from  his  manner. 
On  this  memorable  day  he  was  seen  wherever  the  peril  was 
greatest.  One  ball  struck  the  cap  of  his  pistol :  another  carried 


off  the  heel  of  his  jackboot :  but  his  lieutenants  in  vain  implored 
him  to  retire  to  some  station  from  which  he  could  give  his  orders 
without  exposing  a  life  so  valuable  to  Europe.  His  troops, 
animated  by  his  example,  gained  ground  fast.  The  Irish  cavalry 
made  their  last  stand  at  a  house  called  Plottin  Castle,  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  south  of  Oldbridge.  There  the  Enniskilleners 
were  repelled  with  the  loss  of  fifty  men,  and  were  hotly  pur- 
sued, till  William  rallied  them  and  turned  the  chase  back.  In 
this  encounter  Richard  Hamilton,  who  had  done  all  that  could 
be  done  by  valour  to  retrieve  a  reputation  forfeited  by  perfidy,* 
was  severely  wounded,  taken  prisoner,  and  instantly  brought, 
through  the  smoke  and  over  the  carnage,  before  the  prince 
whom  he  had  foully  wronged.  On  no  occasion  did  the  charac- 
ter of  William  show  itself  in  a  more  striking  manner.  "  Is  this 
business  over  ? "  he  said  ;  "  or  will  your  horse  make  more 
fight  ?  "  "  On  my  honour,  Sir,"  answered  Hamilton,  "  I  believe 
that  they  will."  "  Your  honour  !  "  muttered  William  ;  "  your 
honour !  "  That  half  suppressed  exclamation  was  the  only  revenge 
which  he  condescended  to  take  for  an  injury  for  which  many 
sovereigns,  far  more  affable  and  gracious  in  their  ordinary  de- 
portment, would  have  exacted  a  terrible  retribution.  Then  re- 
straining himself,  he  ordered  his  own  surgeon  to  look  to  the 
hurts  of  the  captive. f 

And  now  the  battle  was  over.     Hamilton  was  mistaken  in 

*  Lauzun  wrote  to  Seignelay,  July  16-26, 1690,  "  Richard  Amilton  a  ei6  fait 
prisomiier,  faisant  fort  bien  son  devoir." 

t  My  chief  materials  for  the  history  of  this  battle  are  Story's  Impartial  Ac-  "" 
count  and  Continuation  ;  the  History  of  the  War  in  Ireland  by  an  officer  of  the 
Royal  Army  ;  the  despatches  in  the  French  War  Office ;  The  Life  of  James, 
Orig.  Mem. ;  Burnet  ii.  50,  60  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  ;  the  London  Gazette 
of  July  10,  1690  ;  the  Despatches  of  Hop  and  Baden  ;  a  narrative  probably  drawn 
up  by  Portland,  which  William  sent  to  the  States  General ;  Portland's  private 
letter  to  Melville  ;  Captain  Richardson's  Narrative  and  map  of  the  battle;  the 
Dumont  MS-,  and  the  Bellingbam  MS.  I  have  also  seen  an  account  of  the  battle 
in  a  Diary  kept  in  bad  Latin  and  in  an  almost  undecipherable  hand  by  one  of  the 
beaten  army  who  seems  to  have  been  a  hedge  schoolmaster  turned  Captain. 
This  Diary  was  kindly  lent  to  me  by  Mr.  Walker,  to  whom  it  belongs.  The 
writer  relates  the  misfortunes  of  his  country  in  a  style  of  which  a  short  speci- 
men may  suffice  :  "  1  July,  1690.  O  diem  ilium  infandum,  cum  inimici  potiti 
Bunt  pass  apud  Oldbridge  et  nos  circumdederant  et  fregerunt  prope  Plottin. 
Hinc  omnes  f  ugimus  Dublin  versus.  Ego  mecum  tuli  Cap  Moore  et  tteorgium 
Ogle,  et  venimus  hac  nocte  Dub." 


thinking  that  his  horse  would  continue  to  fight.  "Whole  troops 
had  been  cut  to  pieces.  One  fine  regiment  had  only  thirty  un- 
wounded  men  left.  It  was  enough  that  these  gallant  soldiers  had 
disputed  the  field  till  they  were  left  without  support,  or  hope, 
or  guidance,  till  their  bravest  leader  was  a  captive,  and  till  their 
King  had  fled. 

Whether  James  had  owed  his  early  reputation  for  valour  to 
accident  and  flattery,  or  whether,  as  he  advanced  in  life,  his 
character  underwent  a  change,  may  be  doubted.  But  it  is  cer- 
tain that,  in  his  youth,  he  was  generally  believed  to  possess, 
not  merely  that  average  measure  of  fortitude  which  qualifies  a 
soldier  to  go  through  a  campaign  without  disgrace,  but  that 
high  and  serene  intrepidity  which  is  the  virtue  of  great  com- 
manders.* It  is  equally  certain  that,  in  his  later  years,  he 
repeatedly,  at  conjunctures  such  as  have  often  inspired  timorous 
and  delicate  women  with  heroic  courage,  showed  a  pusillani- 
mous anxiety  about  his  personal  safety.  Of  the  most  powerful 
motives  which  can  induce  human  beings  to  encounter  peril,  none 
was  wanting  to  him  on  the  day  of  the  Boyne.  The  eyes  of  con- 
tending nations  and  churches,  of  friends  devoted  to  his  cause 
and  of  enemies  eager  to  witness  his  humiliation,  were  fixed  upon 
him.  He  had,  in  his  own  opinion,  sacred  rights  to  maintain  and 
cruel  wrongs  to  revenge.  He  was  a  King  come  to  fight  for 
three  kingdoms.  He  was  a  father  come  to  fight  for  the  birth- 
right of  bis  child.  He  was  a  zealous  Roman  Catholic,  come  to 
fight  in  the  holiest  of  crusades.  If  all  this  was  not  enough,  he 
saw,  from  the  secure  position  which  he  occupied  on  the  height 
of  Donore,  a  sight  which,  it  might  have  been  thought,  would 
have  roused  the  most  torpid  of  mankind  to  emulation.  He  saw 
his  rival,  weak,  sickly,  wounded,  swimming  the  river,  struggling 
through  the  mud,  leading  the  charge,  stopping  the  flight,  grasp- 
ing the  sword  with  the  left  hand,  managing  the  bridle  with  a 

»  See  Pepys's  Diary,  June  4, 1C64.  "  He  tells  me  above  all  of  the  Duke  of 
York,  that  he  is  more  himself,  ar.d  more  of  judgment  is  at  hand  in  him,  in  the 
middle  of  a  desperate  service  than  at  other  times."  Clarendon  repeatedly  says 
the  same.  Swift  wrote  on  the  margin  of  his  copy  of  Clarendon,  in  one  plnce, 
"  How  old  was  he  (James)  when  he  turned  Papist  and  a  coward  ?  " — in  another, 
"  He  proved  a  cowardly  Popish  king." 


bandaged  arm.  But  none  of  these  things  moved  that  sluggish  and 
ignoble  nature.  He  watched,  from  a  safe  distance,  the  beginning 
of  the  battle  on  which  his  fate  and  the  fate  of  his  race  depended. 
When  it  became  clear  that  the  day  was  going  against  Ireland, 
he  was  seized  with  an  apprehension  that  his  flight  might  be  in- 
tercepted, and  galloped  towards  Dublin.  He  was  escorted  by  a 
bodyguard  under  the  command  of  Sarsfield,  who  had,  on  that 
day,  had  no  opportunity  of  displaying  the  skill  and  courage 
which  his  enemies  allowed  that  he  possessed.*  The  French 
auxiliaries,  who  had  been  employed  the  whele  morning  in  keep- 
ing William's  right  wing  in  check,  covered  the  flight  of  the 
beaten  army.  They  were  indeed  in  some  danger  of  being 
broken  and  swept  away  by  the  torrent  of  runaways,  all  pressing 
to  get  first  to  the  pass  of  Duleek,  and  were  forced  to  fire  re- 
peatedly on  these  despicable  allies. f  The  retreat  was,  however, 
effected  with  less  loss  that  might  have  been  expected.  For 
even  the  admirers  of  William  owned  that  he  did  not  show 
in  the  pursuit  the  energy  which  even  his  detractors  acknowl- 
edged that  he  had  shown  in  the  battle.  Perhaps  his  physical 
infirmities,  his  hurt,  and  the  fatigue  which  he  had  undergone, 
had  made  him  incapable  of  bodily  or  mental  exertion.  Of  the 
last  forty  hours  he  1  a  1  passed  thirty-five  on  horseback.  Schom- 
berg,  who  might  have  supplied  his  place,  was  no  more.  It  was 
said  in  the  camp  that  the  King  could  not  do  everything,  and 
that  what  was  not  done  by  him  was  not  done  at  all. 

The  slaughter  had  been  less  than  on  any  battle  field  of  equal 
importance  and  celebrity.  Of  the  Irish  only  about  fifteen  hundred 
had  fallen :  but  they  were  almost  all  cavalry,  the  flower  of  the 

*  The  Pere  Orleans  mentions  that  Sarsfield  accompanied  James.  The  battle 
of  the  Boyne  had  scarcely  been  fought  when  it  was  made  the  subject  of  a  drama, 
the  Royal  Flight,  or  the  Conquest  of  Ireland,  a  Farce,  1690.  Nothing  move 
execrable  was  ever  written,  even  for  Bartholomew  Fair.  But  it  deserves  to  be 
remarked  that,  in  this  wretched  piece,  though  the  Irish  generally  are  repre- 
sented as  poltroons,  an  exception  is  made  in  favor  of  Sarsfleld.  "  This  fellow," 
says  James,  aside,  "  will  make  me  valiant,  I  think,  in  spite  of  my  teeth." 
"  Curse  of  my  stars ! "  says  Sarsfleld,  after  the  battle.  "  That  I  must  be  de- 
tached !  I  would  have  wrested  victory  out  of  heretic  Fortune's  hands." 

t  Both  La  Hoguette  and  Zurlauben  informed  their  government  that  it  had 
i>een  necessary  to  fire  on  the  Irish  fugitives,  who  would  otherwise  have  thrown 
the  French  ranks  into  confusion. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  33 

army,  brave  and  well  disciplined  men,  whose  place  could  not 
easily  be  supplied.  William  gave  strict  orders  that  there  should 
be  no  unnecessary  bloodshed,  and  enforced  those  orders  by  an 
act  of  laudable  severity.  One  of  his  soldiers,  after  the  fight  was 
over,  butchered  three  defenceless  Irishmen  who  asked  for  quar- 
ter. The  King  ordered  the  murderer  to  be  hanged  on  the  spot.* 

The  loss  of  the  conquerors  did  not  exceed  five  hundred  men : 
but  among  them  was  the  first  captain  in  Europe.  To  his  corpse 
every  honour  was  paid.  The  only  cemetery  in  which  so  illustri- 
ous a  warrior,  slain  in  arms  for  the  liberties  and  religion  of  Eng. 
land,  could  prope:  ly  be  laid  was  that  venerable  Abbey,  hallowed 
by  the  dust  of  many  generations  of  princes,  heroes,  and  poets. 
It  was  announced  that  the  brave  veteran  would  have  a  public 
funeral  at  Westminster.  In  the  meantime  his  corpse  was  em- 
balmed with  such  skill  as  could  be  found  in  the  camp,  and  was 
deposited  in  a  leaden  coffin. f 

Walker  was  treated  less  respectfully-  William  thought  him 
a  busybody  who  had  been  properly  punished  for  running  into 
danger  without  any  call  of  duty,  and  expressed  that  feeling, 
with  characteristic  bluntness,  on  the  field  of  battle.  "  Sir,"  said 
an  attendant,  "  the  Bishop  of  Deny  has  been  killed  by  a  shot  at 
the  ford."  "  What  took  him  there  ?  "  growled  the  King. 

The  victorious  army  advanced  that  day  to  Duleek,  and 
passed  the  warm  summer  night  there  under  the  open  sky.  The 
tents  and  the  baggage  waggons  were  still  on  the  north  of  the 
river.  William's  coach  had  been  brought  over  ;  and  he  slept  in 
it  surrounded  by  his  soldiers.  On  the  following  day,  Drogheda 
surrendered  without  a  blow,  and  the  garrison,  thirteen  hundred 
strong,  marched  out  unarmed. t 

Meanwhile  Dublin  had  been  in  violent  commotion.  On  the 
thirtieth  of  June  it  was  known  that  the  armies  were  face  to  face 
with  the  Boyne  between  them,  and  that  a  battle  was  almost 
inevitable.  The  news  that  William  had  been  wounded  came  that 
evening.  The  first  report  was  that  the  wound  was  mortal.  It 

*  Baden  to  Van  Titters,  July  &-1R,  1690. 

t  New  aud  Perfect  Journal,  1690  ;  Luttrell'a  Diary. 

t  Story  ;  London  Gazette,  July  10, 1690. 

VOL.  IV.— 3 


was  believed,  and  confidently  repeated,  that  the  usurper  was  no 
more  ;  and,  before  the  truth  was  known,  couriers  started  bearing 
the  glad  tidings  of  his  death  to  the  French  ships  which  la}7  in 
the  ports  of  Munster.  From  daybreak  on  the  first  of  July  the 
streets  of  Dublin  were  filled  with  persons  eagerly  asking  and 
telling  news.  A  thousand  wild  rumours  wandered  to  and  fro 
among1  the  crowd.  A  fleet  of  men  of  war  under  the  white  fl;ig 
had  been  seen  from  the  hill  of  Howth.  An  army  commanded  by 
a  Marshal  of  France  had  landed  in  Kent.  There  had  been  hard 
lighting  at  the  Boyne  :  but  the  Irish  had  won  the  day  :  the  Eng- 
lish right  wing  had  been  routed :  the  Prince  of  Orange  was  a 
prisoner.  While  the  Roman  Catholics  heard  and  repeated  these 
stories  in  all  the  places  of  public  resort,  the  few  Protestants  who 
were  still  out  of  prison,  afraid  of  being  torn  to  pieces,  shut  them- 
selves up  in  their  inner  chambers.  But,  towards  five  in  the 
afternoon,  a  few  runaways  on  tired  horses  came  straggling  in 
with  evil  tidings.  By  six  it  was  known  that  all  was  lost.  Soon 
after  sunset,  James,  escorted  by  two  hundred  cavalry,  rode  into  the 
Castle.  At  the  threshold  he  was  met  by  the  wife  of  Tyrconnel, 
once  the  gay  and  beautiful  Fanny  Jennings,  the  loveliest  co- 
quette in  the  brilliant  Whitehall  of  the  Restoration.  To  her 
the  vanquished  King  had  to  announce  the  ruin  of  her  fortunes 
and  of  his  own.  And  now  the  tide  of  fugitives  came  in  fasf . 
Till  midnight  all  the  northern  avenues  of  the  capital  were 
choked  by  trains  of  cars  and  by  bands  of  dragoons,  spent  with 
running  and  riding,  and  begrimed  with  dust.  Some  had  lost 
their  fire  arms,  and  some  their  swords.  Some  were  disfigured  by 
recent  wounds.  At  two  in  the  morning  Dublin  was  still :  but, 
before  the  early  dawn  of  midsummer,  the  sleepers  were  roused 
by  the  peal  of  trumpets  ;  and  the  horse,  who  had,  on  the  preced- 
ing day,  so  well  supported  the  honour  of  their  country,  came 
pouring  through  the  streets,  with  ranks  fearfully  thinned,  yet 
preserving,  even  in  that  extremity,  some  show  of  military  order. 
Two  hours  later  Lauzun's  drums  were  heard  ;  and  the  French 
regiments,  in  unbroken  array,  marched  into  the  city.*  Many 
thought  that,  with  such  a  force,  a  stand  might  still  be  madn. 
*  Xruo  auU  Perfect  Jaurual ;  Villara  Hlbemicuin  ;  Story's  Impartial  History. 


But,  before  six  o'clock,  the  Lord  Mayor  and  some  of  the  prin- 
cipal Roman  Catholic  citizens  were  summoned  in  haste  to  the 
Castle.  James  took  leave  of  them  with  a  speech  which  did  him 
little  honour.  He  had  often,  he  said,  been  warned  that  Irish- 
men, however  well  they  might  look,  would  never  acquit  them- 
selves well  on  a  field  of  battle  :  and  he  had  now  found  that  the 
warning  was  but  too  true.  He  had  been  so  unfortunate  as  to 
see  himself  in  less  than  two  years  abandoned  by  two  armies. 
His  English  troops  had  not  wanted  courage :  but  they  had 
wanted  loyalty.  His  Irish  troops  were,  no  doubt,  attached  to 
his  cause,  which  was  their  own.  But,  as  soon  as  they  were 
brought  front  to  front  with  an  enemy,  they  ran  away.  The 
loss  indeed  had  been  little.  More  shame  for  those  who  had  fled 
with  so  little  loss.  "  I  will  never  command  an  Irish  army  again. 
I  must  shift  for  myself;  and  so  must  you."  After  thus  reviling 
his  soldiers  for  being  the  rabble  which  his  own  mismanagement 
had  made  them,  and  for  following  the  example  of  cowardice 
which  he  had  himself  set  them,  he  uttered  a  few  words  more 
worthy  of  a  King.  He  knew  ,he  said,  that  some  of  his  adherents 
had  declared  that  they  would  burn  Dublin  down  rather  than 
suffer  it  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  English.  Such  an  act 
would  disgrace  him  in  the  eyes  of  all  mankind  ;  for  nobody 
would  believe  that  his  friends  would  venture  so  far  without  his 
sanction.  Such  an  act  would  also  draw  on  those  who  committed 
it  severities  which  otherwise  they  had  no  cause  to  apprehend  : 
for  inhumanity  to  vanquished  enemies  was  not  among  the  faults 
of  the  Prince  of  Orange.  For  these  reasons  James  charged 
his  hearers  on  their  allegiance  neither  to  sack  nor  to  destroy 
the  city.*  He  then  took  his  departure,  crossed  the  Wicklow 
hills  with  all  speed,  and  never  stopped  till  he  was  fifty  miles 
from  Dublin.  Scarcely  had  he  alighted  to  take  some  refresh- 
ment when  he  was  scared  by  an  absurd  report  that  the  pursuers 
were  close  upon  him.  He  started  again,  rode  hard  all  night, 
and  gave  orders  that  the  bridges  should  be  pulled  down  behind 
him.  At  sunrise  on  the  th'rd  of  July  he  reached  the  harbour 

*  Story  ;  True  and  Perfect  Journal ;  London  Gazette,  July  10,  1690,  Burnet, 
li.  51 ;  Lablie's  Auswer  to  King. 


of  Waterford.     Thence  he  went  by  sea  to  Kinsale,  where  he 
embarked  on  board  of  a  French  frigate,  and  sailed  for  Brest.* 

After  his  departure  the  confusion  in  Dublin  increased  hourly. 
During  the  whole  of  the  day  which  followed  the  battle,  flying 
foot  soldiers,  weary  and  soiled  with  travel,  were  constantly 
coming  in.  Roman  Catholic  citizens,  with  their  wives,  their 
families  and  their  household  stuff,  were  constantly  going  out. 
In  some  parts  of  the  capital  there  was  still  an  appearance  of 
martial  order  and  preparedness.  Guards  were  posted  at  the 
gates  :  the  castle  was  occupied  by  a  strong  body  of  troops  ;  and 
it  was  generally  supposed  that  the  enemy  would  not  be  admitted 
without  a  struggle.  Indeed  some  swaggerers,  who  had,  a  few 
hours  before,  run  from  the  breastwork  at  Oldbridge  without 
drawing  a  trigger,  now  swore  that  they  would  lay  the  town  in 
ashes  rather  than  leave  it  to  the  Prince  of  Orange.  But  towards 
the  evening  Tyrconnel  and  Lauzun  collected  all  their  forces, 
and  marched  out  of  the  city  by  the  road  leading  to  that  vast 
sheepwalk  which  extends  over  the  table  land  of  Kildare.  In- 
stantly the  face  of  things  in  Dublin  was  changed.  The  Pro- 
testants everywhere  came  forth  from  their  hidingplaces.  Some 
of  them  entered  the  houses  of  their  persecutors  and  demanded 
arms.  The  doors  of  the  prisons  were  opened.'  The  Bishops 
of  Meath  and  Limerick,  Doctor  King,  and  others,  who  had  long 
held  the  doctrine  of  passive  obedience,  but  who  had  at  length 
been  converted  by  oppression  into  moderate  Whigs,  formed 
themselves  into  a  provisional  government,  and  sent  a  messenger 
to  William's  camp,  with  the  news  that  Dublin  was  prepared  to 
welcome  him.  At  eight  that  evening  a  troop  of  English  dragoons 
arrived.  They  were  met  by  the  whole  Protestant  population 
on  College  Green,  where  the  statue  of  the  deliverer  now  stands. 
Hundreds  embraced  the  soldiers,  hung  fondly  about  the  necks 
of  the  horses,  and  ran  wildly  about,  shaking  hands  with  each 
other.  On  the  morrow  a  large  body  of  cavalry  arrived ;  and 
soon  from  every  side  came  news  of  the  effects  which  the  victory 
of  the  Boyne  had  produced.  James  had  quitted  the  island. 
Wexford  had  declared  for  King  William.  Within  twenty-five 

*  Life  of  Jamea.  ii.  404,  Orig.  Mem. ;   Monthly  Mercury  for  August,  1690. 


miles  of  the  capital  there  was  not  a  Papist  in  arms.  Almost 
all  the  baggage  and  stores  of  the  defeated  army  had  been  seized 
by  the  conquerors.  The  Enniskilleners  had  taken  not  less  than 
three  hundred  cars,  and  had  found  among  the  booty  ten 
thousand  pounds  in  money,  much  plate,  many  valuable  trinkets, 
and  all  the  rich  camp  equipage  of  Tyrconnel  and  Lauzun.* 

William  fixed  his  head  quarters  at  Finglass,  about  two  miles 
from  Dublin.  Thence  on  the  morning  of  Sunday,  the  sixth  of 
July,  he  rode  in  great  state  to  the  cathedral,  and  there,  with 
the  crown  on  his  head,  returned  public  thanks  to  God  in  the 
choir  which  is  now  hung  with  the  banners  of  the  Knights  of 

o  o 

Saint  Patrick.  There  the  remains  of  Schomberg  were  deposit- 
ed, as  it  was  then  thought,  only  for  a  time ;  and  there  they  still 
remain.  Doctor  King  preached,  with  all  the  fervour  of  a 
neophyte,  on  the  great  deliverance  which  God  had  wrought  for 
the  Church.  The  Protestant  magistrates  of  the  city  appeared 
again,  after  a  long  interval,  in  the  pomp  of  office.  William 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  repose  himself  at  the  Castle,  but  in 
the  evening  returned  to  his  camp,  and  slept  there  in  his  wooden 
cabin,  f 

The  fame  of  these  great  events  flew  fast,  and  excited  strong 
emotions  all  over  Europe.  The  news  of  William's  wound  every- 
where preceded  by  a  few  hours  the  news  of  his  victory.  Paris 
was  roused  at  dead  of  night  by  the  arrival  of  a  courier  who 
brought  the  joyful  intelligence  that  the  heretic,  the  parricide, 
the  mortal  enemy  of  the  greatness  of  France,  had  been  struck 

x.  *  True  and  Perfect  Journal  ;  London  Gazette,  July  10,  and  14,  1690  ;  Nar- 
cissus LuttrelPs  Diary.  In  the  Life  of  James  Bonnell,  Accountant  General  of 
Ireland  (1703),  is  a  remarkable  religious  meditation,  from  which  I  will  quote  a 
short  passage.  "  How  did  we  see  the  Protestants  on  the  great  day  of  our  Revo- 
lution, Thursday  the  Third  of  July,  a  day  ever  to  be  remembered  by  us  with  the 
greatest  thankfulness,  congratulate  and  embrace  one  another  as  they  met,  like 
persons  alive  from  the  dead,  like  brothers  and  sisters  meeting  after  a  long 
absence,  and  going  abont  from  house  to  bouse  to  give  each  other  joy  of  God's 
proat  mercy,  enquiring  of  one  another  how  they  passed  the  late  days  of  distress 
and  terror,  what  apprehensions  they  had.  what  fears  or  dangers  they  were  under; 
those  that  were  prisoners,  how  they  got  their  liberty,  how  they  were  treated,  and. 
what,  from  time  to  time,  they  thought  of  things." 

t  London  Gazette,  July  14,  1690;  Story  ;  True  and  Perfect  Journal;  Dnmont 
MS.  Dnmont  is  the  only  person  who  mentions  the  crown.  As  he  was  present, 
he  could  not  be  mistaken.  Tt  was  probably  the  crown  which  James  had  been  in 
tiiu  habit  of  wearing  when  he  appeared  on  the  throne  at  tue  Klug'b  Iim&. 


dead  by  a  cannon  ball  in  the  sight  of  the  two  armies.  The 
commissaries  of  police  ran  about  the  city,  knocked  at  the  doors, 
and  called  the  people  up  to  illuminate.  In  an  hour  streets, 
quays,  and  bridges  were  in  a  blaze :  drums  were  beating  and 
trumpets  sounding  :  the  bells  of  Notre  Dame  were  ringing : 
peals  of  cannon  were  resounding  from  the  batteries  of  the  Bas- 
tille. Tables  were  set  out  in  the  streets  ;  and  wine  was  served 
to  all  who  passed.  A  Prince  of  Orange,  made  of  straw,  was 
trailed  through  the  ,mud,  and  at  last  committed  to  the  flames. 
He  was  attended  by  a  hideous  effigy  of  the  devil,  carrying  a 
scroll,  on  which  was  written,  "  I  have  been  waiting  for  thee 
these  two  years."  The  shops  of  several  Huguenots,  who  had 
been  dragooned  into  calling  themselves  Catholics,  but  who  were 
suspected  of  being  still  heretics  at  heart,  were  sacked  by  the 
rabble.  It  was  hardly  safe  to  question  the  truth  of  the  report 
which  had  been  so  eagerly  welcomed  by  the  multitude.  Soon, 
however,  some  coolheaded  people  ventured  to  remark  that  the 
fact  of  the  tyrant's  death  was  not  quite  so  certain  as  might  be 
wished.  Then  arose  a  vehement  controversy  about  the  effect 
of  such  wounds  :  for  the  vulgar  notion  was  that  no  person 
struck  by  a  cannon  ball  on  the  shoulder  could  recover.  The 
disputants  appealed  to  medical  authority  !  and  the  doors  of  the 
great  surgeons  and  physicians  were  thronged,  it  was  jocosely 
said,  as  if  there  had  been  a  pestilence  in  Paris.  The  question 
was  soon  settled  by  a  letter  from  James,  which  announced  his 
defeat  and  his  arrival  at  Brest.* 

At  Rome  the  news  from  Ireland  produced  a  sensation  of  a 
very  different  kind.  There  too  the  report  of  William's  death 
was,  during  a  short  time,  credited.  At  the  French  embassy  all 
was  joy  and  triumph :  but  the  Ambassadors  of  the  House  of 
Austria  were  in  despair ;  and  the  aspect  of  the  Pontifical  Court 
by  no  means  indicated  exultation. f  Melfort,  in  a  transport  of 

*  Monthly  Mercury  for  August  1690  ;  Burnet,  ii.  50  ;  Dangeau,  Aug.  2, 1G90, 
and  Saint  Simon's  note  ;  The  Follies  of  France,  or  a  true  Relaiioii  of  the  extrav- 
agant Rejoicings,  &c.,  elated  Paris,  Aug.  8,  1690. 

t  "  Me  tiene,"  the  Marquis  of  Cogolludo,  Spanish  minister  at  Koine,  says  of 
this  report,  "  en  sumo  cuidado  y  desconsuelo,  pues  esta  seria  la  ultima  ruina  de 
la  causa  comun." — Cogolludo  to  Itonquillo,  Home,  Aug.  2,  1690. 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  39 

joy,  sate  down  to  write  a  letter  of  congratulation  to  Mary  of 
Modena.  That  letter  is  still  extant,  and  would  alone  suffice  to 
explain  why  he  was  the  favourite  of  James.  Herod, — so  William 
was  designated, — was  gone.  There  must  be  a  restoration ;  and 
that  restoration  ought  to  be  followed  by  a  terrible  revenge  and 
by  the  establishment  of  despotism.  The  power  of  the  purse 
must  be  taken  away  from  the  Commons.  Political  offenders 
must  be  tried,  not  by  juries,  but  by  judges  on  whom  the  Crown 
could  depend.  The  Habeas  Corpus  Act  must  be  rescinded. 
The  authors*  of  the  Revolution  must  be  punished  with  merci- 
less severity.  "  If,"  the  cruel  apostate  wrote,  "  if  the  King  is 
forced  to  pardon,  let  it  be  as  few  rogues  as  he  can."  *  After 
the  lapse  of  some  anxious  hours,  a  messenger  bearing  later  and 
more  authentic  intelligence  alighted  at  the  palace  occupied  by 
the  representative  of  the  Catholic  King.  In  a  moment  all  was 
changed.  The  enemies  of  France, — and  all  the  population,  ex- 
cept Frenchmen  and  British  Jacobites,  were  her  enemies,— eager- 
ly felicitated  one  another.  All  the  clerks  of  the  Spanish  legation 
were  too  few  to  make  transcripts  of  the  despatches  for  the 
Cardinals  and  Bishops  who  were  impatient  to  know  the  details 
of  the  victory.  The  first  copt  was  sent  to  the  Pope,  and  was 
doubtless  welcome  to  him.f 

The  good  news  from  Ireland  reached  London  at  a  moment 
when  good  news  was  needed.  The  English  flag  had  been  dis- 
graced in  the  English  seas.  A  foreign  enemy  threatened  the 
coast.  Traitors  were  at  work  within  the  realm.  Mary  had 
exerted  herself  beyond  her  strength.  Her  gentle  nature  was 
unequal  to  the  cruel  anxieties  of  her  position ;  and  she  com- 
plained that  she  could  scarcely  snatch  a  moment  from  business 
to  calm  herself  by  prayer.  Her  distress  rose  to  the  highei-t 
point  when  she  learned  that  the  camps  of  her  father  and  her 
husband  were  pitched  near  to  each  other,  and  that  tidings  of  a 

*  Original  Letters  published  by  Sir  Henry  Ellis. 

t  "  Dell  sucesso  de  Irlanda  doy  a  v.  Exca  la  enorabuena,  y  le  aseguro  no  ha 
baatado  casi  la  gente  que  tengo  en  la  Secretaria  para  repartir  oopias  dello,  pues 
la  he  einbiado  a  todo  el  Ingar,  y  la  primera  al  Papa." — Cogolludo  to  Honquillo, 
po-tseript  to  the  letter  of  Aug.  2.  Cogolludo,  of  course,  TISPS  the  new  style.  The 
tidhigs  of  the  battle,  therefore,  had  been  three  weeks  in  getting  to  Borne. 


battle  might  be  hourly  expected.  She  stole  time  fcr  a  visit  to 
Kensington,  and  had  three  hours  of  quiet  in  the  garden,  then  a 
rural  solitude.*  But  the  recollection  of  days  passed  there  with 
him  whom  she  might  never  see  again  overpowered  her.  "  The 
place,"  she.  wrote  to  him,  "  made  me  think  how  happy  I  was 
there  when  I  had  your  dear  company.  But  now  I  will  say  no 
more  ;  for  I  shall  hurt  my  own  eyes,  which  I  want  now  more 
than  ever.  Adieu.  Think  of  me  and  love  me  as  much  as  I 
shall  you,  whom  I  love  more  than  my  life."  f 

Early  on  the  morning  after  these  tender  lines  had  been 
despatched,  Whitehall  was  roused  by  the  arrival  of  a  post  from 
Ireland.  Nottingham  was  called  out  of  bed.  The  Queen,  who 
was  just  going  to  the  chapel  where  she  daily  attended  divine 
service,  was  informed  that  William  had  been  wounded.  She  had 
wept  much :  but  till  that  moment  she  had  wept,  alone,  and  had 
constrained  herself  to  show  a  cheerful  countenance  to  her  Court 
and  Council.  But  when  Nottingham  put  her  husband's  letter 
into  her  hands,  she  burst  into  tears.  She  was  still  trembling 
with  the  violence  of  her  emotions,  and  had  scarcely  finished  a 
letter  to  William  in  which  she  poured  out  her  love,  her  fears, 
and  her  thankfulness,  with  the  sweet  natural  eloquence  of  her 
*>ex,  when  anothe*  messenger  Arrived  with  the  news  that  the 
English  army  had  forced  a  passage  across  the  Boyne,  that  the 
Irish  were  flying  in  confusion,  and  that  the  King  was  well.  Yet 
she  was  visibly  uneasy  till  Nottingham  had  assured  her  that 
James  was  safe.  The  grave  Secretary,  who  seems  to  have 
really  esteemed  arid  loved  her,  afterwards  described  with  much 
feeling  that  struggle  of  filial  duty  with  conjugal  affection.  On 
the  same  day  she  wrote  to  adjure  her  husband  to  see  that  no 
harm  befell  her  father.  "  I  know,"  she  said,  "  I  need  not  beg 
you  to  let  him  be  taken  care  of :  for  I  am  confident  you  will  for 
your  own  sake ;  yet  add  that  to  all  your  kindness :  and,'for  my 
sake,  let  people  know  you  would  have  no  hurt  happen  to  his 
person."  t  This  solicitude,  though  amiable,  was  superfluous. 
Her  father  was  perfectly  competent  to  take  care  of  himself.  He 

*  Evelyn  (Feb.  25, 1689-00)  calls  it «'  a  sweet  villa." 

t  Mary  to  William,  July  5,  1690. 

t  Mary  to  William,  July  6  and  7,  1690  ;  Burnet,  ii.  55. 


had  never,  during  the  battle,  run  the  smallest  risk  of  ^urt ;  and 
while  his  daughter  was  shuddering  at  the  dangers  to  which  she 
fancied  that-  he  was  exposed  in  Ireland,  he  was  half  way  on  his 
voyage  to  France. 

It  chanced  that  the  glad  tidings  arrived  at  Whitehall  on  the 
day  to  which  the  Parliament  stood  prorogued.  The  Speaker 
and  several  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  who  were  in 
London  met,  according  to  form,  at  ten  in  the  morning,  and  were 
summoned  by  Black  Rod  to  the  bar  of  the  Peers.  The  Parlia- 
ment was  then  again  prorogued  by  commission.  As  soon  as 
this  ceremony  had  been  performed,  the  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer put  into  the  hands  of  the  Clerk  the  despatch  which  had 
just  arrived  from  Ireland,  and  the  Clerk  read  it  with  a  loud 
voice  to  the  Lords  and  gentlemen  present.*  The  good  news 
spread  rapidly  from  Westminster  Hall  to  all  the  coffeehouses, 
and  was  received  with  transports  of  joy.  For  those  English- 
men who  wished  to  see  an  English  army  beaten  and  an  English 
colony  extirpated  by  the  French  and  Irish  were  a  minority  even 
of  the  Jacobite  party. 

On  the  ninth  day  after  the  battle  of  the  Boyne  James  land- 
ed at  Brest,  with  an  excellent  appetite,  in  high  spirits,  and  in  a 
talkative  humour.  He  told  the  history  of  his  defeat  to  every- 
body who  would  listen  to  him.  But  French  officers  who  un- 
derstood war,  and  who  compared  his  story  with  other  accounts, 
pronounced  that,  though  His  Majesty  had  witnessed  the  battle, 
he  knew  nothing  about  it,  except  that  his  army  had  been  rout- 
ed.f  From  Brest  he  proceeded  to  Saint  Germains,  where,  a 
few  hours  after  his  arrival,  he  was  visited  by  Lewis.  The 
French  King  had  too  much  delicacy  and  generosity  to  utter  a 
word  which  could  sound  like  reproach.  Nothing,  he  declared, 
that  could  conduce  to  the  comfort  of  the  royal  family  of  Eng- 

*  Baden  to  Van  Cltters,  July  8-18.  1690. 

t  ^e  two  letters  annexed  to  the  Memoirs  of  the  intendant  Foucault,  and 
printed  in  the  work  of  M.  de  Sirtema  de  Grovestins.  In  the  archives  of  the  War 
Office  at  Paris  is  a  letter  written  from  Brest  by  the  Count  of  Bouridal  on  .July 
11-21,  1690.  The  Count  says  :  "  Par  la  relation  du  combat  que  j'ay  entendu  fairo 
an  Roy  d'Angleterre  et  &  plusieurs  de  sa  suite  en  particulier,  il  ne  me  paroit  pas  , 
qn'il  soit  Men  Inform^  de  tout  ce  qui  s'est  passe  daua  cette  action,  et  qu'il  lie 
B$ait  que  la  deroute  de  ses  troupes." 


land  should  be  wanting,  as  far  as  his  power  extended.  But  he 
was  by  no  means  disposed  to  listen  to  the  political  and  military 
projects  of  his  unlucky  guest.  James  recommended'  an  immedi- 
ate descent  on  England.  That  kingdom,  he  said,  had  been 
drained  of  troops  by  the  demands  of  Ireland.  The  seven  or  eight 
thousand  regular  soldiers  who  were  left  would  be  unable  to  with- 


etand  a  great  French  army.  The  people  were  ashamed  of  their 
error  and  impatient  to  repair  it.  As  soon  as  their  rightful  King 
showed  himself,  they  would  rally  round  him  in  multitudes.* 
Lewis  was  too  polite  and  -goodnatured  to  express  what  he  must 
have  felt.  He  contented  himself  with  answering  coldly  that  he 
could  not  decide  upon  any  plan  about  the  British  islands  till  he 
had  heard  from  his  generals  in  Ireland.  James  was  importu- 
nate, and  seemed  to  think  himself  ill  used,  because,  a  fortnight 
after  he  had  run  away  from  one  army,  he  was  not  entrusted 
with  another.  Lewis  was  'not  to  be  provoked  into  uttering  an 
unkind  or  uncourteous  word  :  but  he  was  resolute ;  and  in  or- 
der to  avoid  solicitations  which  gave  him  pain,  he  pretended  to 
be  unwell.  During  some  time,  whenever  James  came  to  Ver- 
sailles, he  was  respectfully  informed  that  His  Most  Christian 
Majesty  was  not  equal  to  the  transaction  of  business.  The 
highspirited  and  quickwitted  nobles  who  daily  crowded  the  an- 
techambers could  not  help  sneering  while  they  bowed  low  to 
the  royal  visitor,  whose  poltroonery  and  stupidity  had  a  second 
time  made  him  an  exile  and  a  mendicant.  They  even  whisper- 
ed their  sarcasms  loud  enough  to  call  up  the  haughty  blood  of 
Este  in  the  cheeks  of  Mary  of  Modena.  But  her  husband  stood 
among  the  scoffers  serene  and  well  pleased  with  himself.  Con- 
tempt, says  the  fine  Indian  proverb,  pierces  through  the  shell 
of  the  tortoise :  but  the  insensibility  of  James  was  proof  even 
against  contempt. f 

While  he  was  enduring  with  ignominious  fortitude  the  polite 
scorn  of  the  French  aristocracy,  and  doing  his  best  to  Weary 

* 'It  was  not  only  on  this  occasion  that  James  held  tills  language.  From  one 
of  the  letters  quoted  in  the  last  note  it  appears  that  on  his  road  from  Brest  to 
Paris  he  told  everybody  that  the  English  were  impatiently  expecting  him.  "  Ce 
pauvre  prince  croit  que  ses  sujets  1'aiment  encore." 

t  Life  of  James,  ii.  411,  412 ;  Buruet,  ii.  57,  and  Dartmouth's  note. 


out  his  benefactor's  patience  and  good  breeding  by  repeating 
that  this  was  the  very  moment  for  an  invasion  of  England, 
and  that  the  whole  island  was  impatiently  expecting  its  foreign 
deliverers,  events  were  passing  which  signally  proved  how  little 
the  banished  oppressor  understood  the  character  of  his  country- 

Tourville  had,  since  the  battle  of  Beachy  Head,  ranged  the 
Channel  unopposed.  On  the  twenty-first  of  July  his  masts  were 
seen  from  the  rocks  of  Portland.  On  the  twenty-second  he 
anchored  in  the  harbour  of  Torbay,  under  the  same  heights 
which  had,  not  many  months  before,  sheltered  the  armament 
of  William.  The  French  fleet,  which  now  had  a  considerable 
number  of  the  troops  on  board,  consisted  of  a  hundred  and 
eleven  sail.  The  galleys,  which  formed  a  large  part  of  this 
force,  resembled  rather  those  ships  with  which  Alcibiades  and 
Lysander  disputed  the  sovereignty  of  the  JEgean  than  those 
which  contended  at  the  Nile  and  at  Trafalgar.  The  galley  was 
very  long  and  very  narrow,  the  deck  not  more  than  two  feet 
from  the  water  edge.  Each  galley  was  propelled  by  fifty  or 
sixty  huge  oars,  and  each  oar  was  tugged  by  five  or  six  slaves. 
The  full  complement  of  slaves  to  a  vessel  was  three  hundred 
and  thirty-six  ;  the  full  complement  of  officers  and  soldiers  a 
hundred  and  fifty.  Of  the  unhappy  rowers  some  were  crimin- 
als who  had  been  justly  condemned  to  a  life  of  hardship  and 
danger  :  a  few  had  been  guilty  only  of  adhering  obstinately  to 
the  Huguenot  worship  :  the  great  majority  were  purchased 
bondsmen,  generally  Turks  and  Moors.  They  were  of  course 
always  forming  plans  for  massacring  their  tyrants  and  escaping 
from  servitude,  and  could  be  kept  in  order  only  by  constant 
stripes,  and  by  the  frequent  infliction  of  death  in  horrible  forms. 
An  Englishman,  who  happened  to  fall  in  with  about  twelve 
hundred  of  these  most  miserable  and  most  desperate  of  human 
beings  on  their  road  from  Marseilles  to  join  Tourville's  squadron, 
heard  them  vowing  that,  if  they  came  near  a  man  of  war  bear- 
ing the  cross  of  St.  George,  they  would  never  again  see  a 
French  dockyard.* 

*  See  tlie  articles  Galore  and  Galerien,  in  the  Encyclopedic,  with  the  plates; 


In  the  Mediterranean  Sea  galleys  were  in  ordinary  use :  trat 
none  had  ever  before  been  tossed  on  the  stormy  oceau  which 
roars  round  our  island.  The  flatterers  of  Lewis  said  that  the  ap- 
pearance of  such  a  squadron  on  the  Atlantic  was  one  of  those 
wonders  which  were  reserved  for  his  reign ;  and  a  medal  was 
struck  at  Paris  to  commemorate  this  bold  experiment  in  mari- 
time war.*  English  sailors,  with  more  reason,  predicted  that 
the  first  gale  would  send  the  whole  of  his  fairweather  armament 
to  the  bottom  of  the  Channel.  Indeed  the  galley,  like  the  an- 
cient trireme,  generally  kept  close  to  the  shore,  and  ventured 
out  of  sight  of  land  only  when  the  water  was  unruffled  and  the 
sky  serene.  But  the  qualities  which  made  this  sort  of  ship  un- 
fit to  brave  the  tempests  and  billows  made  it  peculiarly  fit  for 
the  purpose  of  landing  soldiers.  Tourville  determined  to  try 
what  effect  would  be  produced  by  a  disembarkation.  The  Eng- 
lish Jacobites  who  had  taken  refuge  in  France  were  all  confident 
that  the  whole  population  of  the  island  was  ready  to  rally  round 
an  invading  army  ;  and  he  probably  gave  them  credit  for  under- 
standing the  temper  of  their  countrymen. 

Never  was  there  a  greater  error.  Indeed  the  French  admiral 
is  said  by  tradition  to  have  received,  while  he  was  still  out  at 
sea,  a  lesson  which  might  have  taught  him  not  to  rely  on  the  as- 
surances of  exiles.  He  picked  up  a  fishing  boat,  and  interroga- 
ted the  owner,  a  plain  Sussex  man,  about  the  sentiments  of  the 
nation.  "Are  you,"  Tourville  asked,  "  for  King  James  ?  "  "I 
do  not  know  much  about  such  matters,"  answered  the  fisherman. 
"  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  King  James.  He  is  a  very 
worthy  gentleman,  I  believe.  God  bless  him."  "A  good  fel- 
low !  "  said  Tourville :  "  Then  I  am  sure  you  will  have  no  ob- 
jection to  take  service  with  us."  "  What !  "  cried  the  prisoner ; 
"  go  with  the  French  to  fight  against  the  English !  Your  hon- 
our must  excuse  me.  I  could  not  do  it  to  save  my  life."t  This 

A  True  Relation  of  the  Cruelties  anil  Barbarities  of  the  French  upon  the  English 
Prisoners  of  War,  by  R.  Hutton,  licensed  June  27,  1690. 

*  See  the  Collection  of  Medals  of  Lowis  the  Fourteenth. 

t  This  anecdote,  true  or  false,  was  current  at  the  time,  or  soon  after.  In  1745 
it\\as  mentioned  as  a  story  which  old  people  had  heard  in  their  youth.  It  is 
quoted  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  of  that  year  from  another  periodical  work. 


poor  fisherman,  whether  he  was  a  real  or  an  imaginary  person, 
spoke  the  sense  of  the  nation.  The  beacon  on  the  ridge  over- 
looking Teignmouth  was  kindled  :  the  High  Tor  and  Causlaiid 
made  answer  :  and  soon  all  the  hill  tops  of  the  West  were  on 
fire.  Messengers  were  riding  hard  all  night  from  Deputy  I  a  u- 
tenant  to  Deputy  Lieutenant.  Early  the  next  morning,  without 
chief,  without  summons,  five  hundred  gentlemen  and  yeomen, 
armed  and  mounted,  had  assembled  on  the  summit  of  Haldon 
Hill.  In  twenty-four  hours  all  Devonshire  was  up.  Every  road 
in  the  county  from  sea  to  sea  was  covered  by  multitudes  of  fight- 
ing men,  all  with  their  faces  set  towards  Torbay.  The  lords  of 
a  hundred  manors,  proud  of  their  long  pedigrees  and  old  coats 
of  arms,  took  the  field  at  the  head  of  their  tenantry,  Drakes, 
Prideauxes,  and  Rolles,  Fowel  of  Fowelscombe  and  Fulford  of 
Fulford,  Sir  Bourchier  Wrey  of  Tawstock  Park  and  Sir  Wil- 
liam Courtenay  of  Powderham  Castle.  Letters  written  by  sev- 
eral of  the  Deputy  Lieutenants  who  were  most  active  during 
this  anxious  week  are  still  preserved.  All  these  letters  agree  in 
extolling  the  courage  and  enthusiasm  of  the  people.  But  all 
agree  also  in  expressing  the  most  painful  solicitude  as  to  the  re- 
sult of  an  encounter  between  a  raw  militia  and  veterans  who  had 
served  under  Turenne  and  Luxemburg;  and  all  call  for  the  help 
of  regular  troops,  in  language  very  unlike  that  which,  when  the 
pressure  of  danger  was  not  felt,  country  gentlemen  were  then  in 
the  habit  of  using  about  standing  armies. 

Tourville,  finding  that  the  whole  population  was  united  as 
one  man  against  him,  contented  himself  with  sending  his  galleys 
to  ravage  Teignmouth,  an  unfortified  market  town  which  had 
given  no  provocation  and  could  make  no  defence.  A  short  can- 
nonade put  the  inhabitants  to  flight.  Seventeen  hundred  men 
landed  and  marched  into  the  deserted  streets.  More  than  a  hun- 
dred houses  were  burned  to  the  ground.  The  cattle  were 
slaughtered.  The  barks  and  fishing  smacks  which  lay  in  the 
river  were  destroyed.  Two  parish  churches  were  sacked,  the 
Bibles  and  Prayerbooks  torn  and  scattered  about  the  roads, 
the  pulpits  and  communion  tables  demolished.  By  this  time  six- 
teen or  seventeen  thousand  Devonshire  men  had  encamped  close 


to  the  shore  ;  and  all  the  neighbouring  counties  had  risen.  The 
tin  mines  of  Cornwall  had  sent  forth  a  great  multitude  of  rude 
and  hardy  men  mortally  hostile  to  Popery.  Ten  thousand  of 
them  had  just  signed  an  address  to  the  Queen,  in  which  they  had 
promised  to  stand  by  her  against  every  enemy ;  and  they  now- 
kept  their  word.*  In  truth,  the  whole  nation  was  stirred.  Two 
and  twenty  troops  of  cavalry,  furnished  by  Suffolk,  Essex,  Hert- 
fordshire and  Buckinghamshire,  were  reviewed  by  Mary  at 
Hounslow,  and  were  complimented  by  Marlborough  on  their 
martial  appearance.  The  militia  of  Kent  and  Surrey  encamped 
on  Blackheath.f  Van  Citters  informed  the  States  General  that 
all  England  was  up  in  arms,  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  that 
the  disastrous  event  of  the  battle  of  Beachy  Head  had  not 
cowed,  but  exasperated  the  people,  and  that  every  company  of 
soldiers  which  he  passed  on  the  road  was  shouting  with  one  voice, 
"God  bless  King  William  and  Queen  Mary. "| 

Charles  Granville,  Lord  Lansdowne,  eldest  son  of  the  Earl 
of  Bath,  came  with  some  troops  from  the  garrison  of  Plymouth 
to  take  the  command  of  the  tumultuary  army  which  had  assem- 
bled round  the  basin  of  Torbay.  Lansdowne  was  no  novice. 
He  had  served  several  hard  campaigns  against  the  common 
enemy  of  Christendom,  and  had  been  created  a  Count  of  the 
Roman  Empire  in  reward  of  the  valour  which  he  had  displayed 
on  that  memorable  day,  sung  by  Felicaja  and  by  Waller,  when 
the  infidels  retired  from  the  walls  of  Vienna.  lie  made  prepar- 
ations for  action  ;  but  the  French  did  not  choose  to  attack  him, 
and  were  indeed  impatient  to  depart.  They  found  some  diffi- 
culty in  getting  away.  One  day  the  wind  was  adverse  to  the 
sailing  vessels.  Another  day  the  water  wao  too  rough  for  the 
galleys.  At  length  the  fleet  stood  out  to  ssa.  As  the  line  of 
ships  turned  the  lofty  cape  which  overlooks  Torquay,  an  iuci- 

*  London  Gazette,  July  7,  1690.  t  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary. 

t  I  give  this  interesting  passage  in  Van  Cittere's  own  words.  "  Door  geheel 
het  ryk  alles  te  voet  en  te  paarde  in  de  wapeueii  op  was  ;  en  't  gene  een  seer 
groote  gerustheyt  gaf  was  dat  alle  en  een  yder  even  seer  tegen  de  Franse  door 
de  laatste  voorgevallen  bataille  verbittert  en  geanimeert  warem.  Gelyk  door  de 
troupes,  dewelke  ik  op  de  weg  alomme  gepasseert  ben,  niet  anders  heb  konnen 
hooren  als  een  eenpaarig  en  geiieraal  geluydt  van  God  bless  King  William  CM 

Queeu  Mary,"  3^l^-  1690. 
AUK-  4, 


dent  happened  which,  though  slight  in  itself,  greatly  interested 
the  thousands  who  lined  the  coast.  Two  wretched  slaves  dis- 
engaged themselves  from  an  oar,  and  sprang  overboard.  One 
of  them  perished.  The  other,  after  struggling  more  than  an 
hour  in  the  water,  came  safe  to  English  ground,  and  was  cor- 
dially welcomed  by  a  population  to  which  the  discipline  of  the 
galleys  was  a  thing  strange  and  shocking.  He  proved  to  be  a 
Turk,  and  was  humanely  sent  back  to  his  own  country. 

A  pompous  description  of  the  expedition  appeared  in  the 
Paris  Gazette.  But  in  truth  Tourville's  exploits  had  been  in- 
glorious, and  yet  less  inglorious  than  impolitic.  The  injury 
which  he  had  done  bore  no  proportion  to  the  resentment  which 
he  had  roused.  Hitherto  the  Jacobites,  had  tried  to  persuade 
the  nation  that  the  French  would  come  as  friends  and  deliverers, 
would  observe  strict  discipline,  would  respect  the  temples  and 
the  ceremonies  of  the  established  religion,  and  would  depart  as 
soon  as  the  Dutch  oppressors  had  been  expelled  and  the  ancient 
constitution  of  the  realm  restored.  The  short  visit  of  Tourville 
to  our  coast  had  shown  how  little  reason  there  was  to  expect 
such  moderation  from  the  soldiers  of  Lewis.  They  had  been 
in  our  island  only  a  few  hours,  and  had  occupied  only  a  few 
acres.  But  within  a  few  hours  and  a  few  acres  had  been  exhibited 
in  miniature  the  devastation  of  the  Palatinate.  What  had  hap- 
pened was  communicated  to  the  whole  kingdom  far  more  rapid- 
ly than  by  gazettes  or  newsletters.  A  brief  for  the  relief  of  the 
people  of  Teignmouth  was  read  in  all  the  ten  thousand  parish 
churches  of  the  land.  No  congregation  could  hear  without 
emotion  that  the  Popish  marauders  had  made  desolate  the  habita- 
tions of  quiet  fishermen  and  peasants,  had  outraged  the  altars 
of  God,  had  torn  to  pieces  the  Gospels  and  the  Liturgy.  A 
street,  built  out  of  the  contributions  of  the  charitable,  on  the 
site  of  the  dwellings  which  the  invaders  had  destroyed,  still  re- 
tains the  name  of  French  Street.* 

*  As  to  this  expedition  I  have  consulted  the  London  Gazettes  of  July  24,  28, 
31,  Aug.  4.  1690  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  ;  We]  wood's  Mercurius  Reformatus, 
Sept.  5  ;  the  Gazette  de  Paris  ;  a  letter  from  Mr.  Duke,  a  Deputy  Lieutenant  of 
Devonshire,  to  Hampden,  dated  July  25  ;  a  letter  from  Mr.  Fulford  of  Fulford 
to  Lord  Nottingham,  dated  July  26 ;  a  letter  of  the  same  date  from  the  Deputy 


The  outcry  against  those  who  were,  with  good  reason,  sus- 
pected of  having  invited  the  enemy  to  make  a  descent  on  our 
shores  was  vehement  and  general,  and  was  swollen  by  many 
voices  which  had  recently  been  loud  in  clamour  against  the  gov- 
ernment of  William.  The  question  had  ceased  to  be  a  question 
between  two  dynasties,  and  had  become  a  question  between 
England  and  France.  So  strong  was  the  national  sentiment 
that  nonjurors  and  Papists  shared  or  affected  to  share  it.  Dry- 
den,  not  long  after  the  burning  of  Teignmouth,  laid  a  play  at 
the  feet  of  Halifax,  with  a  dedication  eminently  ingenious,  artful, 
and  eloquent.  The  dramatist  congratulated  his  patron  on  hav- 
ing taken  shelter  iu  a  calm  haven  from  the  storms  of  public  life, 
and,  with  great  force  and  beauty  of  diction,  magnified  the  felicity 
of  the  statesman  who  exchanges  the  bustle  of  office  and  the 
fame  of  oratory  for  philosophic  studies  and  domestic  endear- 
ments. England  could  not  complain  that  she  was  defrauded 
of  the  service  to  which  she  had  a  right,  Even  the  severe  disci- 
pline of  ancient  Rome  permitted  a  soldier,  after  many  campaigns, 
to  claim  his  dismission  ;  and  Halifax  had  surely  done  enough 
for  his  country  to  be  entitled  to  the  same  privilege.  But  the 
poet  added  that  there  was  one  case  in  which  the  Roman  veteran, 
even  after  his  discharge,  was  required  to  resume  his  shield  and 
his  piltim  ;  and  that  one  case  was  a  Gallic  invasion.  That  a 
writer  who  had  purchased  the  smiles  of  James  by  apostasy,  who 
had  been  driven  in  disgrace  from  the  Court  of  William,  and  who 
had  a  deeper  interest  in  the  restoration  of  the  exiled  House  than 
any  man  who  made  letters  his  calling,  should  have  used  such 
language  as  this,  is  a  fact  which  may  convince  us  that  the  deter- 
mination never  to  be  subjugated  by  foreigners  was  fixed  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people.* 

Lieutenants  of  Devonshire  to  the  Earl  of  Bath  ;  a  letter  of  the  same  date  from 
Lord  Lansdowne  to  the  Earl  of  Bath.  These  four  letters  are  among  the  MSS.  of 
the  Royal  Irish  Academy.  Mr.  Jordan  of  Teignmouth  has  kindly  sent  me  a  copy 
o'  the  brief,  which  has  enabled  me  to  correct  some  errors  of  detail  into  which  I 
had  been  led  by  documents  less  authentic.  Pangeau  inserted  in  hi^  Journal,  Aug. 
16,  a  series  of  extravagant  lies.  Tourville  had  routed  the  militia,  taken  their 
cannon  and  colours,  burned  men  of  war,  captured  i-ichly  laden  merchantships, 
and  was  going  to  destroy  Plymouth.  This  is  a  fair  specimen  of  Dangeau's  Eng- 
lish news.  Indeed  he  complains  that  it  was  hardly  possible  to  ppt  at  true  infor- 
mation about  England,  *  Dedication  of  Arthur. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  49 

There  was  indeed  a  Jacobite  literature  in  which  no  trace  of 
this  patriotic  spirit  can  be  detected,  a  literature  the  remains  of 
which  prove  that  there  were  Englishmen  perfectly  willing  to 
see  the  English  flag  dishonoured,  the  English  soil  invaded,  the 
English  capital  sacked,  the  English  crown  worn  by  a  vassal  of 
Lewis,  if  only  they  might  avenge  themselves  on  their  enemies, 
and  especially  on  William,  whom  they  hated  with  a  hatred  half 
frightful,  half  ludicrous.  But  this  literature  was  altogether  a 
work  of  darkness.  The  law  by  which  the  Parliament  of  James 
had  subjected  the  press  to  the  control  of  censors  was  still  in 
force  ;  and,  though  the  officers  whose  business  it  was  to  prevent 
the  infraction  of  that  law  were  not  extreme  to  mark  every  ir- 
regularity committed  by  a  bookseller  who  understood  the  art  of 
conveying  a  guinea  in  a  squeeze  of  the  hand,  they  could  not 
wink  at  the  open  vending  of  unlicensed  pamphlets  filled  with 
ribald  insults  to  the  Sovereign,  and  with  direct  instigations  to 
rebellion  But  there  had  long  lurked  in  the  garrets  of  London 
a  class  of  printers  who  worked  steadily  at  their  calling  with  pre- 
cautions resembling  those  employed  by  coiners  and  forgers. 
Women  were  on  the  watch  to  give  the  alarm  by  their  screams 
if  an  officer  appeared  near  the  workshop.  The  press  was  im- 
mediately pushed  into  a  closet  behind  the  bed :  and  types  were 
flung  into  the  coalhole,  and  covered  with  cinders :  the  compos- 
itor disappeared  through  a  trapdoor  in  the  roof,  and  made  off 
over  the  tiles  of  the  neighbouring  houses.  In  these  dens  were 

c5  O 

manufactured  treasonable  works  of  all  classes  and  sizes,  from 
halfpenny  broadsides  of  doggrel  verse  up  to  massy  quartos  filled 
with  Hebrew  quotations.  It  wasxnot  safe  to  exhibit  such  pub- 
lications openly  on  a  counter.  They  were  sold  only  by  trusty 
agents,  and  in  secret  places.  Some  tracts,  which  were  thought 
likely  to  produce  a  great  effect,  were  given  away  in  immense 
numbers  at  the  expense  of  wealthy  Jacobites.  Sometimes  a 
paper  was  thrust  under  a  door,  sometimes  dropped  on  the  table 
of  a  coffeehouse.  One  day  a  thousand  copies  of  a  scurrilous 
pamphlet  went  out  by  the  postbags.  On  another  day,  when 
the  shopkeepers  rose  early  to  take  down  their  shutters,  they 
VOL.  IV— 4 


found  the  whole  of  Fleet  Street  and  the  Strand  white  with  sedi« 
tious  handbills.* 

Of  the  numerous  performances  which  were  ushered  into 
the  world  by  such  shifts  as  these,  none  produced  a  greater  sen- 
sation than  a  little  book  which  purported  to  be  a  form  of  prayer 
and  humiliation  for  the  use  of  the  persecuted  Church.  It  was 
impossible  to  doubt  that  a  considerable  sum  had  been  expended 
on  this  work.  Ten  thousand  copies  were,  by  various  means, 
scattered  over  the  kingdom.  No  more  mendacious,  more  malig- 
nant, or  more  impious  lampoon  was  ever  penned.  Though  the 
government  had  as  yet  treated  its  enemies  with  a  lenity  unpre- 
cedented in  the  history  of  our  country,  though  not  a  single  per- 
son had,  since  the  Revolution,  suffered  death  for  any  political 
offence,  the  authors  of  this  liturgy  were  not  ashamed  to  pray 
that  God  would  assuage  their  enemy's  insatiable  thirst  for  blood, 
or  would,  if  any  more  of  them  were  to  be  brought  through  the 
Red  Sea  to  the  Land  of  Promise,  prepare  them  for  the  pas- 
sage, f  They  complained  that  the  Church  of  England,  once 
the  perfection  of  beauty,  had  become  a  scorn  and  derision,  a  heap 
of  ruins,  a  vineyard  of  wild  grapes  ;  that  her  service  had  ceased 
to  deserve  the  name  of  public  worship  ;  that  the  bread  and  wine 
which  she  dispensed  had  no  longer  any  sacramental  virtue  ;  that 
her  priests,  in  the  act  of  swearing  fealty  to  the  usurper,  had  lost 
the  sacred  character  which  had  been  conferred  on  them  by  their 
ordination. $  James  was  profanely  described  as  the  stone  which 
foolish  builders  had  rejected  ;  and  a  fervent  petition  was  put  up 
that  Providence  would  again  make  him  the  head  of  the  corner. 
The  blessings  which  were  called  down  on  our  couutry  were  of 

*  See  the  account  of  Anderton's  Trial,  1693  ;  the  Postman  of  March  12, 1605-6 ; 
the  Flying  Post  of  March  7,  1700  ;  Some  Discourses  upon  Dr.  Bui-net  and  Dr.  Til- 
lotson,  by  Hicks,  1695.  The  appendix  to  these  Discourses  contains  a  curious 
account  of  the  inquisition  into  printing  offices  under  the  Licensing  Act. 

t  This  was  the  ordinary  cant  of  the  Jacobites.  A  Whig  writer  had  justly  said 
in  the  preceding  year.  "  They  seurrilously  call  our  David  a  man  of  blood,  though, 
to  this  day,  he  has  not  suffered  a  drop  to  be  spilt."— Mephibosheth  and  Ziba, 
licensed  Aug.  30, 1689. 

J  •'  Restore  unto  us  ngain  the  publick  worship  of  thy  name,  the  reverent  ad- 
ministration of  thy  sacraments.  Raise  up  the  former  government  both  in  church 
and  state,  that  we  may  be  110  louger  without  King,  without  priest,  without  God 
in  the  world." 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  51 

a  singular  description.  There  was  something  very  like  a  prayer 
for  another  Bloody  Circuit ;  "  Give  the  King  the  necks  of  his 
enemies  :  "  there  was  something  very  like  a  prayer  for  a  French 
invasion  ;  "  Raise  him  up  friends  abroad  ;  "  and  there  was  a 
more  mysterious  prayer,  the  best  comment  on  which  was  after- 
wards furnished  by  the  Assassination  Plot ;  "  Do  some  great 
thing  for  him.  which  we  in  particular  know  not  how  to  pray 
for."  * 

This  liturgy  was  composed,  circulated,  and  read,  it  is  said, 
in  some  congregations  of  Jacobite  schismatics,  before  William 
set  out  for  Ireland,  but  did  not  attract  general  notice  till  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  foreign  armament  on  our  coast  had  roused  the* 
national  spirit.  Then  rose  a  roar  of  indignation  against  the  Eng- 
lishmen who  had  dared,  under  the  hypocritical  pretence  of  devo- 
tion, to  imprecate  curses  on  England.  The  deprived  Prelates  were 
suspected,  and  not  without  some  show  of  reason.  For  the  non- 
jurors  were,  to  a  man,  zealous  Episcopalians.  Their  doctrine  was 
that,  in  ecclesiastical  matters  of  grave  moment,  nothing  could  be 
well  done  without  the  sanction  of  the  Bishop.  And  could  it  be 
believed  that  any  who  held  this  doctrine  would  compose  a  service, 
print  it,  circulate  it,  and  actually  use  it  in  public  worship,  without 
the  approbation  of  Sancroft,  whom  the  whole  party  revered,  not 
only  as  the  true  Primate  of  all  England,  but  also  as  a  Saint  and 
a  Confessor?  It  was  known  that  the  Prelates  who  had  refused 
the  oaths  had  lately  held  several  consultations  at  Lambeth.  The 
subject  of  those  consultations,  it  was  now  said,  might  easily  be 
guessed.  The  holy  fathers  had  been  engaged  in  framing  prayers 
for  the  destruction  of  the  Protestant  colony  in  Ireland,  for  the 
defeat  of  the  English  fleet  in  the  Channel,  and  for  the  speedy 
arrival  of  a  French  army  in  Kent.  The  extreme  section  of  the 
Whig  party  pressed  this  accusation  with  vindictive  eagerness.' 
This  then,  said  those  implacable  politicians,  was  the  fruit  of  King 
William's  merciful  policy.  Never  had  he  committed  a  greater 
error  then  when  he  had  conceived  the  hope  that  the  hearts  of 
the-  clergy  were  to  be  won  by  clemency  and  moderation.  lie 

*  A  Form  of  Prayer  and  Humiliation  for  God's  Blessing  upon  His  Majesty 
*•"•*  Ids  Dominions,  and  for  Removing  aud  Averting  of  God's  Judgments  from 
tiu*  Church  and  State,  1690. 


had  not  chosen  to  give  credit  to  men  who  had  learned  by  a 
long  and  bitter  experience  that  no  kindness  will  tame  the  sullen 
ferocity  of  a  priesthood.  He  had  stroked  and  pampered  when 
he  should  have  tried  the  effect  of  chains  and  hunger.  He  had 
hazarded  the  good  will  of  his  best  friends  by  protecting  his  worst 
enemies.  Those  Bishops  who  had  publicly  refused  to  acknowl- 
edge him  as  their  Sovereign,  and  who,  by  that  refusal,  had 
forfeited  their  dignities  and  revenues,  still  continued  to  live  un- 
molested in  palaces  which  ought  to  be  occupied  by  better  men. 
And  for  his  indulgence,  an  indulgence  unexampled  in  the  history 
^of  revolutions,  what  return  had  been  made?  Even  this,  that 
the  men,  whom  he  had,  with  so  much  tenderness,  screened  from 
just  punishment,  had  the  insolence  to  describe  him  in  their  prayers 
as  a  persecutor  defiled  with  the  blood  of  the  righteous  ;  that 
they  asked  for  grace  to  endure  with  fortitude  his  sanguinary 
tyranny  j  that  they  cried  to  heaven  for  a  foreign  fleet  and  army 
to  deliver  them  from  his  yoke;  nay,  that  they  hinted  at  a  wish 
so  odious  that  even  they  had  not  the  front  to  speak  it  plainly. 
One  writer,  in  a  pamphlet  which  produced  a  great  sensation, 
expressed  his  wonder  that  the  people  had  not,  when  Tourville 
was  riding  victorious  in  the  Channel,  Dewitted  the  nonjuring 
Prelates.  Excited  as  the  public  mind  then  was,  there  was  some 
danger  that  this  suggestion  might  bring  a  furious  mob  to  Lam- 
beth. At  Norwich  indeed  the  people  actually  rose,  attacked 
the  palace  which  the  Bishop  was  still  suffered  to  occupy,  and 
would  have  pulled  it  down  but  for  the  timely  arrival  of  the  train- 
bands.* The  government  very  properly  instituted  criminal  pro- 
ceedings against  the  publisher  of  the  work  which  had  produced 
this  alarming  breach  of  the  peace. f  The  deprived  Prelates  mean- 
while put  forth  a  defence  of  their  conduct.  In  this  document 
they  declared  with  all  solemnity,  and  as  in  the  presence  of  God, 
that  they  had  no  hand  in  the  new  liturgy,  that  they  knew  not  who 
had  framed  it,  that  they  had  never  used  it,  that  they  had  never 
held  any  correspondence  directly  or  indirectly  with  the  French 
court,  that  they  were  engaged  in  no  plot  against  the  existing 

*  Letter  of  Lloyd,  Bishop  of  Norwich,  to  Sancroft,  iu  the  Tanner  MSS. 
t  Luttrell's  Diary. 


government,  and  that  they  would  willingly  shed  their  blood 
rather  than  see  England  subjugated  by  a  foreign  prince,  who 
had,  in  his  own  kingdom,  cruelly  persecuted  their  Protestant 
brethren.  As  to  the  writer  who  had  marked  them  out  to  the 
public  vengeance  by  a  fearful  word,  but  too  well  understood, 
they  commended  him  to  the  Divine  mercy,  and  heartily  prayed 
that  his  great  sin  might  be  forgiven  him.  Most  of  those  who 
signed  this  paper  did  so  doubtless  with  sincerity  :  but  there  is 
good  reason  to  believe  that  one  at  least  of  the  subscribers  added 
to  the  crime  of  betraying  his  country  the  crime  of  calling  his 
God  to  witness  a  falsehood.* 

The  events  which  were  passing  in  the  Channel  and  on 
the  Continent  compelled  William  to  make  repeated  changes  in 
his  plans.  During  the  week  which  followed  his  triumphal  en- 
try into  Dublin,  messengers  charged  with  evil  tidings  arrived 
from  England  in  rapid  succession.  First  came  the  account  of 
Waldeck's  defeat  at  Fleurus.  The  King  was  much  disturbed. 
All  the  pleasure,  he  said,  which  his  own  victory  had  given  him 
was  at  an  end.  Yet,  with  that  generosity  which  was  hidden 
under  his  austere  aspect,  he  sate  down,  even  in  the  moment  oi 
his  first  vexation,  to  write  a  kind  and  encouraging  letter  to  the 
unfortunate  general-t  Three  days  later  came  intelligence  more 
alarming  still.  The  allied  fleet  had  been  ignominiously  beaten. 
The  sea  from  the  Downs  to  the  Land's  End  was  in  possession 
of  the  enemy.  The  next  post  might  bring  news  that  Kent  was 
invaded.  A  French  squadron  might  appear  in  Saint  George's 
Channel,  and  might  without  difficulty  burn  all  the  transports 

*  A  Modest  inquiry  into  the  Causes  of  the  present  Disasters  in  England,  and 
•who  they  are  that  brought  the  French  into  the  English  Channel  described,  1600  ; 
Reflections  upon  a  Form  of  Prayer  lately  set  out  for  the  Jacobites,  1690  ;  A 
Midnight  Touch  at  an  Unlicensed  Pamphlet,  1690.  The  paper  signed  by  the  non- 
juring  Bishops  has  often  been  reprinted. 

Since  the  first  edition  of  this  part  of  my  work  appeared  I  have  learned  that 
the  Jacobite  Form  of  Prayer  which  produced  so  ranch  excitement  and  contro- 
versy in  1690  was,  to  a  great  extent,  copied  from  a  Form  of  Prayer  which  had 
been  composed  and  clandestinely  printed,  soon  after  the  battle  of  Worcester, 
for  the  use  of  the  Royalists.  This  curious  fact,  which  seems  to  have  been  quite 
unknown  both  to  the  accused  Bishops  and  to  their  accusers,  was  discovered  by 
Mr.  Lathbary,  after  the  publication  of  his  History  of  the  Noujurors,  and  was.  in 
the  most  obliging  manner,  communicated  by  him  to  me. 

t  William  to  Heinsius,  July  4-14,  1690. 


which  lay  at  anchor  in  the  Bay  of  Dublin.  William  determined 
to  return  to  England :  but  he  wished  to  obtain,  before  he  went* 
the  command  of  a  safe  haven  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Ireland. 
"Waterford  was  the  best  place  suited  to  his  purpose  ;  and  towards 
Waterford  he  immediately  proceeded.  Clonmel  and  Kilkenny 
were  abandoned  by  the  Irish  troops  as  soon  as  it  was  known 
that  he  was  approaching.  At  Kilkenny  he  was  entertained,  on 
the  nineteenth  of  July,  by  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  in  the  ancient 
castle  of  the  Butlers,  which  had  not  long  before  been  occupied  by 
Lauzun,  and  which  therefore,  in  the  midst  of  the  general  devas- 
tation, still  had  tables  arid  chairs,  hangings  on  the  walls,  and 
claret  in  the  cellars.  On  the  twenty-first,  two  regiments 
which  garrisoned  Waterford  consented  to  march  out  after  a 
faint  show  of  resistance :  a  few  hours  later  the  fort  of  Dun- 
cannon,  which,  towering  on  a  rocky  promontory,  commanded 
the  entrance  of  the  harbour,  surrendered ;  and  William  was 
master  of  the  whole  of  that  secure  and  spacious  basin  which  is 
formed  by  the  united  waters  of  the  Suir,  the  Nore,  and  the 
Barrow.  He  then  announced  his  intention  of  instantly  returning 
to  England,  and,  having  declared  Count  Solmes  Commander  in 
Chief  of  the  army  of  Ireland,  set  out  for  Dublin.* 

But  good  news  met  him  on  tn~e  road.  Tourville  had  appear- 
ed on  the  coast  of  Devonshire,  had  put  some  troops  on  shore, 
and  had  sacked  Teign mouth;  but  the  only  effect  of  this  insult 
had  been  to  raise  the  whole  population  of  the  western  counties 
in  arms  against  the  invaders.  The  enemy  had  departed,  after 
doing  just  mischief  enough  to  make  the  cause  of  James  as  odious 
for  a  time  to  Tories  as  to  Whigs.  William  therefore  again 
changed  his  plans,  and  hastened  back  to  his  army,  which,  during 
his  absence,  had  moved  westward,  and  which  he  rejoined  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Cashel.f 

About  this  time  he  received  from  Mary  a  letter  requesting 
him  to  decide  an  important  question  on  which  the  Council  of 
Nine  was  divided.  Marlborough  was  of  opinion  that  all  dan- 
ger of  invasion  was  over  for  thyt  year.  The  sea,  he  said,  waa 

*  Story  ;   London  Gazette.  Aujr.  4, Ifi'Ki ;  Dumont  MS. 

t  Story  :  William  to  Hein8iu8,J^'y  ^'  1690 ;  London  Gazette,  Aug.  11. 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  55 

open  :  for  the  French  ships  had  returned  into  port  and  were  re- 
h'ttiug.  Now  was  the  time  to  send  an  English  fleet  with  five 
thousand  troops  on  board,  to  the  southern  extremity  of  Ireland. 
Such  a  force  might  easily  reduce  Cork  and  Kinsale,  two  of  the 
most  important  strongholds  still  occupied  by  the  forces  of  James. 
Marlborough  was  strenuously  supported  by  Nottingham,  and 
as  strenuously  opposed  by  the  other  members  of  the  interior 
council  with  Caermarthen  at  their  head.  The  Queen  referred 
the  matter  to  her  husband.  He  highly  approved  of  the  plan, 
and  gave  orders  that  it  should  be  executed  by  the  General  who 
had  formed  it.  Caermarthen  submitted,  though  with  a  bad 
grace,  and  with  some  murmurs  at  the  extraordinary  partiality 
of  His  Majesty  for  Marlborough.* 

William  meanwhile  was  advancing  towards  Limerick.  In 
that  city  the  army  which  he  had  put  to  rout  at  the  Boyne  had 
taken  refuge,  discomfited,  indeed,  and  disgraced,  but  very  little 
diminished.  He  would  not  have  had  the  trouble  of  besieging 
the  place,  if  the  advice  of  Lauzun  and  of  Lauzun's  countrymen 
had  been  followed.  They  laughed  at  the  thought  of  defending 
such  fortifications,  and  indeed  would  not  admit  that  the  name  of 
fortifications  could  properly  be  given  to  heaps  of  dirt,  which  cer- 
tainly bore  little  resemblance  to  the  works  of  Valenciennes  and 
Philipsburg.  *'  It  is  unnecessary,"  said  Lauzun,  with  an  oath, 
"  for  the  English  to  bring  cannon  against  such  a  place  as  this. 
What  you  call  your  ramparts  might  be  battered  down  with 
roasted  apples."  He  therefore  gave  his  voice  for  evacuating 
Limerick,  and  declared  that,  at  all  events,  he  was  determined 
not  to  throw  away,  in  a  hopeless  resistance,  the  lives  of  the  brave 
men  who  had  been  entrusted  to  his  care  by  his  master.f  The 
truth  is,  that  the  judgment  of  the  brilliant  and  adventurous 
Frenchman  was  biassed  by  his  inclinations.  He  and  his  con- 
panions  were  sick  of  Ireland.  They  were  ready  to  face  death 
with  courage,  nay,  with  gaiety,  on  a  field  of  battle.  But  the  dull, 
squalid,  barbarous  life,  which  they  had  now  been  leading  during 

*  Mary  to  William,  Aug.  7-17,  Aug^2-  *?£*'  1690. 

sept.  1,     sept.o, 

t  Macariae  Excidium  ;  Mac  Geoghegan  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  420  ;  London  Ga- 
zette, Aug.  14,  1690. 


several  months,  was  more  than  thej  could  bear.  They  were  as 
much  out  of  the  pale  of  the  civilised  world  as  if  they  had  been 
banished  to  Dahomy  or  Spitzbergen.  The  climate  affected  their 
health  and  spirits.  In  that  unhappy  country,  wasted  by  years 
of  predatory  war,  hospitality  could  offer  little  more  than  a  couch 
of  straw,  a  trencher  of  meat  half  raw  and  half  burned,  arid  a 
draught  of  sour  milk.  A  crust  of  bread,  a  pint  of  wine,  could 
hardly  be  purchased  for  money.  A  year  of  such  hardships 
seemed  a  century  to  men  who  had  always  been  accustomed  to 
carry  with  them  to  the  camp- the  luxuries  of  Paris,  soft  bedding, 
rich  tapestry,  sideboards  of  plate,  hampers  of  Champagne,  opera 
dancers,  cooks,  and  musicians.  Better  to  be  a  prisoner  in  the 
Bastille,  better  to  be  a  recluse  at  La  Trappe,  than  to  be  gen- 
eralissimo of  the  half  naked  savages  who  burrowed  in  the  dreary 
swamps  of  Munster.  Any  plea  was  welcome  which  would 
serve  as  an  excuse  for  returning  from  that  miserable  exile  to  the 
land  of  cornfields  and  vineyards,  of  gilded  coaches  and  laced 
cravats,  of  ballrooms  and  theatres.* 

Very  different  was  the  feeling  of  the  children  of  the  soil. 
The  island,  which  to  French  courtiers  was  a  disconsolate  place 
of  banishment,  was  the  Irishman's  home.  There  were  collected 
all  the  objects  of  his  love  and  of  his  ambition  ;  and  there  he 
hoped  that  his  dust  would  one  day  mingle  with  the  dust  of  his 
fathers.  To  him  even  the  heaven  dark  with  the  vapours  of  the 
ocean,  the  wildernesses  of  black  rushes  and  stagnant  water,  the 
mud  cabins  where  the  peasants  and  the  swine  shared  their  meal 
of  roots,  had  a  charm  which  was  wanting  to  the  sunny  skies,  the 
cultured  fields,  and  the  stately  mansions  of  the  Seine.  He  could 
imagine  no  fairer  spot  than  his  country,  if  only  his  country 
could  be  freed  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Saxons  ;  and  all  hope 

*  The  impatience  of  Lauzun  and  his  countrymen  to  get  away  from  Ireland  is 
mentioned  in  a  letter  of  Oct.  21,1690,  quoted  in  the  Memoirs  of  James,  ii.  421. 
"  Asimo,"  says  Colonel  Kelly,  the  author  of  the  Maearire  Excidiiiin,  "  diutufnam 
absentiam  tarn  segre  molesteque  ferebat  ut  bellum  in  Cypro  protrahi  continua- 
lique  ipso  ei  aurtitu  acerbissimum  esset.  Nee  incredibile  est  ducum  in  illius 
exercitu  nonnullos,  po'issimum  qui  patrii  cceli  duleedinem  impatientius  suspira- 
bant,  sibi  persuasisse  desperatas  Cypri  res  nnlla  humana  ope  defend!  sustenta- 
rique  p.">sse."  Asimo  is  Lauzun,  and  Cyprus  Ireland. 


that  his  country  would  be  freed  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Saxons 
must  be  abandoned  if  Limerick  were  surrendered. 

The  conduct  of  the  Irish  during  the  last  two  months  had 
sunk  their  military  reputation  to  the  lowest  point.  They  had, 
with  the  exception  of  some  gallant  regiments  of  cavalry,  fled 
disgracefully  at  the  Boyne,  and  had  thus  incurred  the  bitter  con- 
tempt both  of  their  enemies  and  of  their  allies.  The  English 
who  were  at  Saint  Germains  never  spoke  of  the  Irish  but  as  a 
people  of  dastards  and  traitors.*  The  French  were  so  much 
exasperated  against  the  unfortunate  nation,  that  Irish  merchants, 
who  had  been  many  years  settled  at  Paris  and  Bordeaux,  durst 
not  walk  the  streets  for  fear  of  being  insulted  by  the  populace. f 
So  strong  was  the  prejudice,  that  absurd  stories  were  invented 
to  explain  the  intrepidity  with  which  the  horse  had  fought.  It 
was  said  that  the  troopers  were  not  men  of  Celtic  blood,  but 
descendants  of  the  old  English  of  the  pale,  t  It  was  also  said 
that  they  had  been  intoxicated  with  brandy  just  before  the  bat- 
tle^ Yet  nothing  can  be  more  certain  than  that  they  must 
have  been  generally  of  Irish  race  ;  nor  did  the  steady  valour 
which  they  displayed  in  a  long  and  almost  hopeless v  conflict 
against  great  odds  bear  any  resemblance  to  the  fury  of  a  coward 
maddened  by  strong  drink  into  momentary  hardihood.  Even  in 
the  infantry,  undisciplined  and  disorganised  as  it  was,  there  was 
much  spirit,  though  little  firmness.  Fits  of  enthusiasm  and  fits 
of  faintheartedness  succeeded  each  other.  The  same  battalion 
which  at  one  time  threw  away  its  arms  in  a  panic  and  shrieked 
for  quarter,  would  on  another  occasion  fight  valiantly.  On  the 
day  of  the  Boyne  the  courage  of  the  ill  trained  and  ill  com- 

*  "  Pauci  illi  ex  Cilicibus  aulicis,  qui  cum  regina  in  Syria  coimnorante  reman- 
Berant,  ....  lion  cessabaiit  univeream  nationem  foede  traducere,  et  ingestis 
insuper  convitiis  lacerare,  pavidos  et  malelidos  proditores  ac  mortalium  consce- 
leratissimos  publice  appellando."— Macairae  Excidium.  The  Cilicians  are  the 
English.  Syria  is  France. 

t  "  Tanta  infamia  tain  operoso  artificio  et  subtili  commento  in  vulgus  sparsa, 
tarn  constautibus  de  Cyprioruin  perfidia  atque  opprobrio  rumoribus,  totam,  qua 
lata  est,  Syriam  ita  pervasit,  ut  mercatores  Cyprii,  ....  propter  innstuin 
genti  dedecns.  intra  domorum  sep.ta  clausi  nunquaru  prodire  auderent ;  tanto 
eorum  odio  populus  in  universum  exarserat." — Macariae  Excidium. 

$  I  have  seen  this  assertion  in  a  contemporary  pamphlet  of  which  I  cannot 
recollect  the  title. 

§  Story  ;  Diuuou.t  MS. 


manded  kernes  had  ebbed  to  the  lowest  point.  When  they  had 
rallied  at  Limerick,  their  blood  was  up.  Patriotism,  fanaticism, 
shame,  revenge,  despair,  had  raised  them  above  themselves. 
With  one  voice  officers  and  men  insisted  that  the  city  should  be 
defended  to  the  last.  At  tbe  head  of  those  who  were  for  resist- 
ing was  the  brave  Sarsfield  ;  and  his  exhortations  diffused 
through  all  ranks  a  spirit  resembling  his  own.  To  save  his 
country  was  beyond  his  power.  All  that  he  could  do  was  to 
prolong  her  last  agony  through  one  bloody  and  disastrous 

Tyrconnel  was  altogether  incompetent  to  decide  the  ques- 
tion on  which  the  French  and  the  Irish  differed.  The  only 
military  qualities  that  he  had  ever  possessed  were  personal 
bravery  and  skill  in  the  use  of  the  sword.  These  qualities  had 
once  enabled  him  to  frighten  away  rivals  from  the  doors  of  his 
mistresses,  and  to  play  the  Hector  at  cockpits  and  hazard  tables. 
But  more  was  necessary  to  enable  him  to  form  an  opinion  as  to 
the  possibility  of  defending  Limerick.  He  would  probably,  had 
his  temper  been  as  hot  as  in  the  days  when  he  diced  with 
Grammont  and  threatened  to  cut  the  old  Duke  of  Ormond's 
throat,  have  voted  for  running  any  risk  however  desperate.  But 
age,  pain,  and  sickness  had  left  little  of  the  ranting,  bullying, 
fighting  Dick  Talbot  of  the  Restoration,  He  had  sunk  into 
deep  despondency.  He  was  incapable  of  strenuous  exertion. 
The  French  officers  pronounced  him  utterly  ignorant  of  the  art 
of  war.  They  had  observed  that  at  the  Boyne  he  had  seemed 
to  be  stupified,  unable  to  give  directions  himself,  unable  even 
to  make  up  his  mind  about  the  suggestions  which  were  offered 
by  others.f  The  disasters  which  had  since  followed  one  another 

*  Maearise  Excidium.  Boisseleau  remarked  the  ebb  and  flow  of  courage 
among  the  Irish.  I  have  quoted  one  of  his  letters  to  his  wife.  It  is  but  just  to 
quote  another.  "  Nos  Irlandois  n'avoient  jamais  vu  le  feu  ;  et  cela  les  a  surpris. 
Presentement,  ils  sont  si  faches  de  n'avoir  pas  fait  leur  devoir  que  je  Buis  bien 
persuade  qu'ils  feront  mieux  pour  1'avenir." 

t  La  Hoguette,  writing  to  Louvois  from  Limerick,  ^~^j  1699,  says  of  Tyrcon- 
nel :  "  II  a  d'ailleurs  trop  pen  de  connoissance  des  choees  de  notre  metier.  II  a 
perdu  absolument  la  oonflance  des  ofticiers  du  pays,  surtout  depuis  le  jour  de 
notre  deroute  ;  et,  en  effet,  Monseigneur,  je  me  oroi*  oblige'  de  vous  dire  que  des 
le  moment  oil  les  ennemis  parurent  sur  le  bonl  de  la  riviere  le  premier  jour,  et 

"WILLIAM   AND    MART.  59 

in  rapid  succession  were  not  likely  to  restore  the  tone  of  a  mind 
so  pitiably  unnerved.  His  wife  was  already  in  France  with  the 
little  which  remained  of  his  once  ample  fortune  :  his  own  wish 
was  to  follow  her  thither;  his  voice  was  therefore  given  for 
abandoning  the  city. 

At  last  a  compromise  was  made.  Lauzun  and  Tyrconnel, 
with  the  French  troops,  retired  to  Galway.  The  great  body 
of  the  native  army,  about  twenty  thousand  strong,  remained  at 
Limerick.  The  chief  command  there  was  entrusted  to  Boisse- 
leau,  who  understood  the  character  of  the  Irish  better,  and 
consequently  judged  them  more  favourably,  than  any  of  his 
countrymen.  In  general,  the  French  captains  spoke  of  their 
unfortunate  allies  with  boundless  contempt  and  abhorrence,  and 
thus  made  themselves  as  hateful  as  the  English.* 

Lauzun  and  Tyrconnel  had  scarcely  departed  when  the  ad- 
vanced guard  of  William's  army  came  in  sight.  Soon  the 
King  himself,  accompanied  by  Auverquerque  and  Ginkell,  and 
escorted  by  three  hundred  horse,  rode  forward  to  examine  the 
fortifications.  The  city,  then  the  second  in  Ireland,  though  less 
altered  since  that  time  than  most  large  cities  in  the  British  isles, 
has  undergone  a  great  change.  The  new  town  did  not  then 
exist.  The  ground  now  covered  by  those  smooth  and  broad 
pavements,  those  neat  gardens,  those  stately  shops  flaming  with 
red  brick,  and  gay  with  shawls  and  china,  was  then  an  open 
meadow  lying  without  the  walls.  Tl>e  city  consisted  of  two 
parts,  which  had  been  designated  during  several  centuries  as 
the  English  and  the  Irish  town.  The  English  town  stands  on 
an  island  surrounded  by  the  Shannon,  and  consists  of  a  knot  of 
antique  houses  with  gable  ends,  crowding  thick  round  a  vener- 
able cathedral.  The  aspect  of  the  streets  is  such  that  a 
traveller  who  wanders  through  them  may  easily  fancy  himself 
in  Normandy  or  Flanders.  Not  far  from  the  cathedral,  an  an- 
cient castle,  overgrown  with  weeds  and  ivy,  looks  down,  on  the 

dans  toute  la  journte  du  lendemain,  il  parut  a  tout  le  monde  dans  une  si  grande 
lethargic  qu'il  etoit  incapable  de  prendre  aucuii  parti,  quelque  chose  qu'oii  lui 

*  Desgrigny  says  of  the  Irish  :  "  Us  sent  tonjours  prets  de  nons  ^gorger  par 
rantipathia  qu'ils  out  pour  nous.  C'est  la  nation  du  moiide  la  plus  brutale,  et 
qni  a  le  moins  d'humanite."  Aug.  12-22,  1690. 


river.  A  narrow  and  rapid  stream,  over  which,  in  1690,  there 
was  only  a  single  bridge,  divides  the  English  town  from  the 
quarter  anciently  occupied  by  the  hovels  of  the  native  popula- 
tion. The  view  from  the  top  of  the  cathedral  now  extends 
many  miles  over  a  level  expanse  of  rich  mould,  through  which 
the  greatest  of  Irish  rivers  winds  between  artificial  banks.  But 
in  the  seventeenth  century  those  banks  had  not  been  constructed  ; 
and  that  wide  plain,  of  which  the  grass,  verdant  even  beyond 
the  verdure  of  Munster,  now  feeds  some  of  the  finest  cattle 
in  Europe,  was  then  almost  always  a  marsh  and  often  a  lake.* 

When  it  was  known  that  the  French  troops  had  quitted 
Limerick,  and  that  the  Irish  only  remained,  the  general  ex- 
pectation in  the  English  camp  was  that  the  city  would  be  an 
easy  conquest.f  Nor  was  that  expectation  unreasonable  :  for 
even  Sarsfield  desponded.  One  chance,  in  his  opinion,  there 
still  was.  William  had  brought  with  him  none  but  small 
guns.  Several  large  pieces  of  ordnance,  a  great  quantity  of 
provisions  and  ammunition,  and  a  bridge  of  tin  boats,  which  iti 
the  watery  plain  of  the  Shannon  was  frequently  needed,  were 
slowly  following  from  Cashel.  If  the  guns  and  gunpowder 
could  be  intercepted  and  destroyed,  there  might  be  some  hope. 
If  not,  all  was  lost ;  and  the  best  thing  that  a  brave  and  high- 
spirited  Irish  gentleman  could  do  was  to  forget  the  country  which 
he  had  in  vain  tried  to  defend,  and  to  seek  in  some  foreign  land 
a  home  or  a  grave. 

A  few  hours,  therefore,  after  the  English  tents  had  been 
pitched  before  Limerick,  Sarsfield  set  forth,  under  cover  of  the 
night,  with  a  strong  body  of  horse  and  dragoons.  He  took  the 
road  to  Killaloe,  and  crossed  the  Shannon  there.  During  the 
day  he  lurked  with  his  band  in  a  wild  mountain  track  named 
from  the  silver  mines  which  it  contains.  Those  mines  had 
many  years  before  been  worked  by  English  proprietors,  with 
the  help  of  engineers  and  labourers  imported  from  the  Conti- 
nent. But,  in  the  rebellion  of  1641.  the  aboriginal  population 

*  Story  ;  Account  of  the  Cities  in  Ireland  that  are  still  possessed  bv  the  Forces 
of  King  James,  1690.  There  are  some  curious  old  maps  of  Limerick  in  the 
British  Museum. 

t  Story  ;  Duinont  MS. 


had  destroyed  the  works  and  massacred  the  workmen  ;  nor  had 
the  devastation  then  committed  been  since  repaired.  In  this 
desolate  region  Sarsfield  found  no  lack  of  scouts  or  of  guides  : 
for  all  the  peasantry  of  Munster  were  zealous  on  his  side.  He 
learned  in  the  evening  that  the  detachment  which  guarded  the 
English  artillery  had  halted  for  the  night,  seven  miles  from 
William's  camp,  on  a  pleasant  carpet  of  green  turf,  and  under 
the  ruined  walls  of  an  old  castle  ;  that  officers  and  men  seemed 
to  think  themselves  perfectly  secure  ;  that  the  beasts  had  been 
turned  loose  to  graze,  and  that  even  the  sentinels  were  dozing. 
When  it  was  dark  the  Irish  horsemen  quitted  their  hidingplace, 
and  were  conducted  by  the  people  of  the  country  to  the  spot 
where  the  escort  lay  sleeping  round  the  guns.  The  surprise 
was  complete.  Some  of  the  English  sprang  to  their  arms  and 
made  an  attempt  to  resist,  but  in  vain.  About  sixty  fell.  One 
only  was  taken  alive.  The  rest  fled.  The  victorious  Irish  made 
a  huge  pile  of  waggons  and  pieces  of  cannon.  Every  gun  was 
stuffed  with  powder,  and  fixed  with  its  mouth  in  the  ground  ; 
and  the  whole  mass  was  blown  up.  The  solitary  prisoner,  a 
lieutenant,  was  treated  with  great  civility  by  Sarsfield.  "  If 
I  had  failed  in  this  attempt,"  said  the  gallant  Irishman,  "  I 
should  have  been  off  to  France."  * 

Intelligence  had  been  carried  to  William's  headquarters  that 
Sarsfield  had  stolen  out  of  Limerick  and  was  ranging  the  coun- 
try. The  King  guessed  the  design  of  his  brave  enemy,  and  sent 
five  hundred  horse  to  protect  the  guns.  Unhappily  there  was 
some  delay,  which  the  English,  always  disposed  to  believe  the 
worst  of  the  Dutch  courtiers,  attributed  to  the  negligence  or 
perverseness  of  Portland.  At  one  in  the  morning  the  detach- 
ment set  out,  but  had  scarcely  left  the  camp  when  a  blaze  like 
lightning  and  a  crash  like  thunder  announced  to  the  wide  plain 

O  O  A 

of  the  Shannon  that  all  was  over.t 

Sarsfield  had  long  been  the  favourite  of  his  countrymen, 
and  this  most  seasonable  exploit,  judiciously  planned  and  vigor- 
ously executed,  raised  him  still  higher  in  their  estimation.  Their 

*  Story  ;  James,  ii.  416  ;  Bariiet,  ii.  68  ;  Dumont  MS 
t  Story  ;  Dumont  MS. 


spirits  rose;  and  the  besiegers  began  to  lose  heart.  "William 
did  his  best  to  repair  his  loss.  Two  of  the  guns  which  had  been 
blown  up  were  found  to  be  still  serviceable.  Two  more  were 
sent  for  from  Waterford.  Batteries  were  constructed  of  small  field 
pieces,  which,  though  they  might  have  been  useless  against  one 
of  the  fortresses  of  Hainault  or  Brabant,  made  some  impression 
on  the  feeble  defences  of  Limerick.  Several  outworks  were 
carried  by  storm  ;  and  a  breach  in  the  rampart  of  the  city  began 
to  appear. 

During  these  operations,  the  English  army  was  astonished 
and  amused  by  an  incident,  which  produced  indeed  no  very  im- 
portant consequences,  but  which  illustrates  in  the  most  striking 
manner  the  real  nature  of  Irish  Jacobitism.  In  the  first  rank 
of  those  great  Celtic  houses,  which,  down  to  the  close  of  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth,  bore  rule  in  Ulster,  were  the  O'Donnels. 
The  head  of  that  house  had  yielded  to  the  skill  and  energy  of 
Mountjoy,  had  kissed  the  hand  of  James  the  First,  and  had 
consented  to  exchange  the  rude  independence  of  a  petty  prince 
for  an  eminently  honourable  place  among  British  subjects. 
During  a  short  time  the  vanquished  chief  held  the  rank  of  an 
Earl,  and  was  the  landlord  of  an  immense  domain  of  which  he 
had  once  been  the  sovereign.  But  soon  he  began  to  suspect  the 
government  of  plotting  against  him,  and,  in  revenge  or  in  self- 
defence,  plotted  against  the  government.  His  schemes  failed  : 
he  fled  to  the  Continent :  his  title  and  his  estates  were  forfeited  ; 
and  an  Anglosaxon  colony  was  planted  in  the  territory  which 
he  had  governed.  He  meanwhile  took  refuge  at  the  court  of 
Spain.  Between  that  court  and  the  aboriginal  Irish  there  had, 
during  the  long  contest  between  Philip  and  Elizabeth,  been  a 
close  connection.  The  exiled  chieftain  was  welcomed  at  Madrid 
as  a  good  Catholic  flying  from  heretical  persecutors.  His  illus- 
trious descent  and  princely  dignity,  which  to  the  English  were 
subjects  of  ridicule,  secured  to  him  the  respect  of  the  Castilian 
grandees.  His  honours  were  inherited  by  a  succession  of  ban- 
ished men  who  lived  and  died  far  from  the  land  where  the 
memory  of  their  family  was  fondly  cherished  by  a  rude  peasan- 
try, and  was  kept  fresh  by  the  songs  of  minstrels  and  the  tales 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  63 

of  begging  friars.  At  length,  in  the  eighty-third  year  of  the 
exile  of  this  ancient  dynasty,  it  was  known  over  all  Europe  that 
the  Irish  were  again  in  arms  for  their  independence.  Baldearg 
O'Donnel,  who  called  himself  the  O'Donnel,  a  title  far  prouder 
in  the  estimation  of  his  race,  than  any  marqui;  a'e  or  dukedom, 
had  been  bred  in  Spain,  and  was  in  the  service  of  the  Spanish 
government.  He  requested  the  permission  of  that  government 
to  repair  to  Ireland  ;  but  the  House  of  Austria  was  now  closely 
leagued  with  England ;  and  the  permissio  i  was  refused.  The 
O'Donnel  made  his  escape,  and  by  a  circuitous  route,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  visited  Turkey,  arrived  at  Kinsale  a  few 
days  after  James  had  sailed  thence  for  France.  The  effect  pro- 
duced on  the  native  population  by  the  arrival  of  this  solitary 
wanderer  was  marvellous.  Since  Ulster  had  been  reconquered 
by  the  Englishry,  great  multitudes  of  the  Irish  inhabitants  of 
that  province  had  migrated  southward,  and  were  now  leading  a 
vagrant  life  in  Connaught  and  Munster.  These  men,  accustomed 
from  their  infancy  to  hear  of  the  good  old  times,  when  the  O'Don- 
nel, solemnly  inaugurated  on  the  rock  of  Kilmacrenan  by  the 
successor  of  Saint  Columb,  governed  the  mountains  of  Donegal 
in  defiance  of  the  strangers  of  the  pale,  flocked  to  the  standard 
of  the  restored  exile.  He  was  soon  at  the  head  of  seven  or 
eight  thousand  Rapparees,  or,  to  use  the  name  peculiar  to  Ulster, 
Creaghts ;  and  his  followers  adhered  to  him  with  a  loyalty  very 
different  from  the  languid  sentiment  which  the  Saxon  James 
had  been  able  to  inspire.  Priests  and  even  Bishops  swelled  the 
train  of  the  adventurer.  He  was  so  much  elated  by  his  recep- 
tion that  he  sent  agents  to  France,  who  assured  the  ministers  of 
Lewis  that  the  O'Donnel  would,  if  furnished  with  arms  and  am- 
munition, bring  into  the  field  thirty  thousand  Celts  from  Ulster, 
and  that  the  Celts  of  Ulster  would  be  found  far  superior  in  every 
military  quality  to  those  of  Leinster,  Munster,  and  Connaught. 
No  expression  used  by  Baldearg  indicated  that  he  considered 
himself  as  a  subject.  His  notion  evidently  was  that  the  House 
of  O'Donnel  was  as  truly  and  as  indefeasibly  royal  as  the  House 
of  Stuart ;  and  not  a  few  of  his  countrymen  were  of  the  same 
mind.  He  made  a  pompous  entrance  into  Limerick ;  aud  bis 


appearance  there  raised  the  hopes  of  the  garrison  to  a  strange 
pitch.  Numerous  prophecies  were  recollected  or  invented.  Au 
O'Donnel  with  a  red  mark  was  to  be  the  deliverer  of  his  coun- 
try ;  and  Baldearg  meant  a  red  mark.  An  O'Donnel  was  to 
gain  a  great  battle  over  the  English  near  Limerick  ;  and  at  Lim- 
erick the  O'Donnel  and  the  English  were  now  brought  face  to 

While  these  predictions  were  eagerly  repeated  by  the  de- 
fenders of  the  city,  evil  presages,  grounded,  not  on  barbarous 
oracles,  but  on  grave  military  reasons,  began  to  disturb  William 
and  his  most  experienced  officers.  The  blow  struck  by  Sarsfieid 
had  told :  the  artillery  had  been  long  in  doing  its  work  :  that 
work  was  even  now  very  imperfectly  done  :  the  stock  of  pow- 
der had  begun  to  run  low  :  the  autumnal  rain  had  begun  to  fall. 
The  soldiers  in  the  trenches  were  up  to  their  knees  in  mire.  No 
precaution  was  neglected  :  but,  though  drains  were  dug  to  carry 
off  the  water,  and  though  pewter  basins  of  usquebaugh  and 
brandy  blazed  all  night  in  the  tents,  cases  of  fever  had  already 
occurred  ;  and  it  might  well  be  apprehended  that,  if  the  army 
remained  but  a  few  days  longer  on  that  swampy  soil,  there  would 
be  a  pestilence  more  terrible  than  that  which  had  raged  twelve 
months  before  under  the  walls  of  Dundalk.f  A  council  of  war 
was  held.  It  was  determined  to  make  one  great  effort,  and,  if 
that  effort  failed,  to  raise  the  siege. 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  August,  at  three  in  the  afternoon, 
the  signal  was  given.  Five  hundred  grenadiers  rushed  from  the 
English  trenches  to  the  counterscarp,  fired  their  pieces  and 
threw  their  grenades.  The  Irish  fled  into  the  town,  and  were 
followed  by  the  assailants,  who,  in  the  excitement  of  victory, 

*  See  the  account  of  the  O'Donnels  in  Sir  William  Betham's  Irish  Antiquarian 
Researches.  It  is  strange  that  he  makes  no  mention  of  Baldearg,  whose  appear- 
ance in  Ireland  is  the  most  extraordinary  event  in  the  whole  history  of  the  race. 
See  also  Story's  Impartial  History  ;  Macariae  Excidium,  and  Mr.  O'Callaghan's 
note  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  434  ;  the  Letter  of  O'Donnel  to  Avaux,  and  the  Memorial 
entitled,  "  M^moire  doime'e  par  1111  honimo  du  Comte  O'Donnel  a  M.  D' Avaux." 

t  The  reader  will  remember  Corporal  Trim's  explanation  of  radical  heat  and 
radical  moisture.  Sterne  is  an  authority  not  to  be  despised  on  these  subjects. 
His  boyhood  was  passed  in  barracks  ;  he  was  constantly  listening  to  the  talk  of 
old  soldiers  who  had  served  under  King  William,  aud  has  used  their  stories  like 
a  man.  of  true  genius. 


did  not  wait  for  orders.  Then  began  a  terrible  street  fight.  The 
Irish,  as  soon  as  they  had  recovered  from  their  surprise,  stood 
resolutely  to  their  arms  ;  and  the  English  grenadiers,  over- 
whelmed by  numbers,  were,  with  great  loss,  driven  back  to  the 
counterscarp.  There  the  struggle  was  long  and  desperate. 
When  indeed  was  the  Roman  Catholic  Celt  to  fight  if  he  did 
not  fight  on  that  day  ?  The  very  women  of  Limerick  mingled 
in  the  combat,  stood  firmly  under  the  hottest  fire,  and  flung 
stones  and  broken  bottles  at  the  enemy.  In  the  moment  when 
the  conflict  was  fiercest  a  mine  exploded,  and  hurled  a  fine 
German  battalion  into  the  air.  During  four  hours  the  carriage 
and  uproar  continued.  The  thick  cloud  which  rose  from  the 
breach  streamed  out  on  the  wind  for  many  miles,  and  disap- 
peared behind  the  hills  of  Clare.  Late  in  the  evening  the 
besiegers  retired  slowly  and  sullenly  to  their  camp.  Their  hope 
was  that  a  second  attack  would  be  made  on  the  morrow  ;  and 
the  soldiers  vowed  to  have  the  town  or  die.  But  the  powder 
was  now  almost  exhausted :  the  rain  fell  in  torrents :  the 
gloomy  masses  of  cloud  which  came  up  from  the  south  west 
threatened  a  havoc  more  terrible  than  that  of  the  sword ;  and 
there  was  reason  to  fear  that  the  roads,  which  were  already 
deep  in  mud,  would  soon  be  in  such  a  state  that  no  wheeled 
carriage  could  be  dragged  through  them.  The  King  determined 
to  raise  the  siege,  and  to  move  his  troops  to  a  healthier  region. 
He  had  in  truth  staid  long  enough :  for  it  was  with  great  diffi- 
culty that  his  guns  and  waggons  were  tugged  away  by  long 
teams  of  oxen.* 

The  history  of  the  first  siege  of  Limerick  bears,  in  some 

»  Story ;  'William  to  Waldeck,  Sept.  22, 1690  ;  London  Gazette,  Sept.  4.  Ber- 
wick asserts  that  when  the  siege  was  raised  not  a  drop  of  rain  had  fallen  during 
a  month,  that  none  fell  during  the  following  three  weeks,  and  that  William  pre- 
tended that  the  weather  was' wet  merely  to  hide  the  shame  of  his  defeat.  Story, 
who  was  on  the  spot,  says,  "  It  was  cloudy  all  about,  and  rained  very  fast.^p  that 
everybody  began  to  dread  the  consequences  of  it ; "  and  again,  "  The  rain  which 
had  already  fallen  had  softened  the  ways.  .  .  .  This  was  one  main  reason  for 
raising  the  siege  :  for,  if  we  had  not,  granting  the  weather  to  continue  bad,  we 
must  either  have  taken  the  town,  or  of  necessity  have  lost  our  cannon."  Dumont, 
another  eyewitness,  says  that  before  the  siege  was  raised  the  rains  had  been  most 
violent;  that  the  Shannon  was  swollen;  that  the  earth  was  soaked;  that  the 
horses  could  not  keep  their  feet 

VOL.  IV.--5 


respects,  a  remarkable  analogy  to  the  history  of  the  siege  of 
Londonderry.  The  southern  city  was,  like  the  northern  city, 
the  last  asylum  of  a  Church  and  of  a  nation.  Both  places  were 
crowded  by  fugitives  from  all  parts  of  Ireland.  Both  places 
appeared  to  men  who  had  made  a  regular  study  of  the  art  of 
war  incapable  of  resisting  an  enemy.  Both  were,  in  the  mo- 
ment of  extreme  danger,  abandoned  by  those  commanders  who 
should  have  defended  them.  Lauzun  and  Tyrconnel  deserted 
Limerick  as  Cunningham  and  Lundy  had  deserted  Londonderry. 
In  both  cases,  religious  and  patriotic  enthusiasm  struggled  un- 
assisted against  great  odds ;  and,  in  both  cases,  religious  and 
patriotic  enthusiasm  did  what  veteran  warriors  had  pronounced 
it  absurd  to  attempt. 

It  was  with  no  pleasurable  emotions  that  Lauzun  and  Tyr- 
connel learned  at  Galway  the  fortunate  issue  of  the  conflict  in 
which  they  had  refused  to  take  a  part.  They  were  weary  of 
Ireland :  they  were  apprehensive  that  their  conduct  might  be 
unfavourably  represented  in  France  :  they  therefore  determined 
to  be  beforehand  with  their  accusers  and  took  ship  together  for 
the  Continent. 

Tyrconnel,  before  he  departed,  delegated  his  civil  authority 
to  one  council,  and  his  military  authority  to  another.  The 
young  Duke  of  Berwick  was  declared  Commander  in  Chief : 
but  this  dignity  was  merely  nominal.  Sarsfield,  undoubtedly 
the  first  of  Irish  soldiers,  was  placed  last  in  the  list  of  the  coun- 
cillors to  whom  the  conduct  of  the  war  was  entrusted ;  and 
some  believed  that  he  would  not  have  been  in  the  list  at  all.  had 
not  the  Viceroy  feared  that  the  omission  of  so  popular  a  name 
might  produce  a  mutiny. 

William  meanwhile  proceeded  to  Waterford,  and  sailed 
thence  for  England.  Before  he  embarked,  he  entrusted  the 
government  of  Ireland  to  three  Lords  Justices.  Henry  Sidney, 
now  Viscount  Sidney,  stood  first  in  the  commission;  and  w'th 
him  were  joined  Coningsby  and  Sir  Charles  Porter.  Porter  had 
formerly  held  the  Great  Seal  of  the  kingdom,  had,  merely 
because  he  was  a  Protestant,  been  deprived  of  it  by  James,  and 
had  now  received  it  again  from  the  haud  of  William. 

•WILLIAM   AND    MART.  67 

On  the  sixth  of  September  the  King,  after  a  voyage  of 
twenty-four  hours,  landed  at  Bristol.  Thence  he  travelled  to 
London  stopping  by  the  road  at  the  mansions  of  some  great 
lords  ;  and  it  was  remarked  that  all  those  who  were  thus  honoured 
were  Tories.  He  was  entertained  one  day  at  Badminton  by  the 
Duke  of  Beaufort,  who  was  supposed  to  have  brought  himself 
with  great  difficulty  to  take  the  oaths,  and  on  a  subsequent  day  at 
a  large  house  near  Marlborough,  which,  in  our  own  time,  before 
the  great  revolution  produced  by  railways,  was  renowned  as  one 
of  the  best  inns  in  England,  but  which,  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, was  a  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Somerset.  William  was  every- 
where received  with  marks  of  respect  and  joy.  His  campaign 
indeed  had  not  ended  quite  so  prosperously  as  it  had  begun  :  but 
on  the  whole  his  success  had  been  great  beyond  expectation,  and 
had  fully  vindicated  the  wisdom  of  his  resolution  to  command 
his  army  in  person.  The  sack  of  Teigumouth  too  was  fresh  in 
the  minds  of  Englishmen,  and  had  for  a  time  reconciled  all  but 
the  most  fanatical  Jacobites  to  each  other  and  to  the  throne. 
The  magistracy  and  clergy  of  the  capital  repaired  to  Kensington 
with  thanks  and  congratulations  The  people  rang  bells  and 
kindled  bonfires.  For  the  Pope,  whom  good  Protestants  had 
been  accustomed  to  immolate,  the  French  King  was  on  this 
occasion  substituted,  probably  by  way  of  retaliation  for  the 
insults  which  had  been  offered  to  the  effigy  of  William  by  the 
Parisian  populace.  A  waxen  figure,  which  was  doubtless  a 
hideous  caricature  of  the  most  graceful  and  majestic  of  princes, 
was  dragged  about  Westminster  in  a  chariot.  Abovo  was  in- 


scribed,  in  large  letters,  "  Lewis  the  greatest  tyrant  of  fourteen." 
After  the  procession  the  image  was  committed  to  the  flames, 
amidst  loud  huzzas,  in  the  middle  of  Covent  Garden.* 

When  William  arrved  in  London,  the  expedition  destined 
for  Cork  was  ready  to  sale  from  Portsmouth  ;  and  Marlborough 
had  been  some  time  on  board  waiting  for  a  fair  wind.  He  was 
accompanied  by  Grafton.  This  young  man  had  been,  imme- 

»  London  Gazette,  September  11, 16flO  ;   Narcissus  LnttrelVs  Diary.    I  have 
Been  a  conWmoorary  engraving  of  Coveut  Garden  as  it  appeared  ou  this  night. 


diately  after  the  departure  of  James,  and  while  the  throne  was 
still  vacant,  named  by  William  Colonel  of  the  First  Regiment  of 
Foot  Guards.  The  Revolution  had  scarcely  been  consummated 
when  signs  of  disaffection  began  to  appear  in  that  regiment,  the 
most  important,  both  because  of  its  peculiar  duties  and  because 
of  its  numerical  strength,  of  all  the  regiments  in  the  army.  It 
was  thought  that  the  Colonel  had  not  put  this  bad  spirit  down 
with  a  sufficiently  firm  hand.  He  was  known  not  to  be  perfectly 
satisfied  with  the  new  arrangement ;  he  had  voted  for  a  Re- 
gency ;  and  it  was  rumoured,  perhaps  without  reason,  that  he 
had  dealings  with  Saint  Germains.  The  honourable  and  lucra- 
tive command  to  which  he  had  just  been  appointed  was  taken 
from  him.*  Though  severely  mortified,  he  behaved  like  a  man 
of  sense  and  spirit.  Bent  on  proving  that  he  had  been  wrong- 
fully suspected,  and  animated  by  an  honourable  ambition  to  dis- 
tinguish himself  in  his  profession,  he  obtained' permission  to 
serve  as  a  volunteer  under  Marlborough  in  Ireland. 

At  length  on  the  eighteenth  of  September,  the  wind  changed. 
The  fleet  stood  out  to  sea,  and,  on  the  twenty-first,  appeared 
before  the  harbour  of  Cork.  The  troops  landed,  and  were 
speedily  joined  by  the  Duke  of  Wurteinberg,  with  several  regi- 
ments, Dutch,  Danish,  and  French,  detached  from  the  army 
which  had  lately  besieged  Limerick.  The  Duke  immediately 
put  forward  a  claim  which,  if  the  English  general  had  not  been 
a  man  of  excellent  judgment  and  temper,  might  have  been  fatal 
to  the  expedition.  His  Highness  contended  that,  as  a  prince  of 
a  sovereign  house,  he  was  entitled  to  command  in  chief.  Marl- 
borough  calmly  and  politely  showed  that  the  pretence  was  un- 
reasonable. A  dispute  followed,  in  which  it  is  said  that  the 
German  behaved  with  rudeness,  and  the  Englishman  with  that 
gentle  firmness  to  which,  more  perhaps  than  even  to  his  great 
abilities,  he  owed  his  success  in  life.  At  length  a  Huguenot 
officer  suggested  a  compromise.  Marlborough  consented  to 
waive  part  of  his  rights,  and  to  allow  precedence  to  the  Duke 
on  the  alternate  days.  The  first  morning  on  which  Marlborough 
had  the  command,  he  gave  the  word  "  Wurtemberg."  The 

*  Vau  Citters  to  the  States  General,  March  19-29,  1689. 


Duke's  heart  was  won  by  this  compliment ;  and  on  the  next  day 
he  gave  the  word  "  Maryborough." 

But,  whoever  might  give  the  word,  genius  asserted  its 
indefeasible  superiority.  Marlborough  was  on  every  day  the 
real  general.  Cork  was  vigorously  attacked.  Outwork  after 
outwork  was  rapidly  carried.  In  forty-eight  hours  all  was  over. 
The  traces  of  the  short  struggle  may  still  be  seen.  The  old 
fort,  where  the  Irish  made  the  hardest  fight,  lies  in  ruins.  The 
Doric  Cathedral,  so  ungracefully  joined  to  the  ancient  tower, 
stands  on  the  site  of  a  Gothic  edifice  which  was  shattered  by 
the  English  cannon.  In  the  neighbouring  churchyard  is  still 
shown  the  spot  where  stood,  during  many  ages,  one  of  those 
round  towers  which  have  perplexed  antiquaries.  This  venerable 
monument  shared  the  fate  of  the  neighbouring  church.  On 
another  spot,  which  is  now  called  the  Mall,  and  is  lined  by  the 
stately  houses  of  banking  companies,  railway  companies,  and 
insurance  companies,  but  which  was  then  a  bog  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Rape  Marsh,  Four  English  regiments,  up  to  the 
shoulders  in  water,  advanced  gallantly  to  the  assault.  Grafton, 
ever  foremost  in  danger,  while  struggling  through  the  quagmire, 
was  struck  by  a  shot  from  the  ramparts,  and  was  carried  back 
dying.  The  place  where  he  fell,  then  about  a  hundred  yards 
without  the  City,  but  now  situated  in  the  very  centre  of  business 
and  population,  is  still  called  Grafton  Street.  The  assailants 
had  made  their  way  through  the  swamp,  and  the  close  fighting 
was  just  about  to  begin,  when  a  parley  was  beaten.  Articles 
of  capitulation  were  speedily  adjusted.  The  garrison,  between 
four  and  five  thousand  fighting  men,  became  prisoners.  Marl- 
borough  promised  to  intercede  with  the  King  both  for  them  and 
for  the  inhabitants,  and  to  prevent  outrage  and  spoliation.  His 
troops  he  succeeded  in  restraining :  but  crowds  of  sailors  and 
camp  followers  came  into  the  city  through  the  breach  ;  and  the 
houses  of  many  Roman  Catholics  were  sacked  before  order  was 

No  commander  has  ever  understood  better  than  Marlborough 
how  to  improve  a  victory.  A  few  hours  after  Cork  had  fallen, 
his  cavalry  were  on  the  road  to  Kinsale.  A  trumpeter  was 

70  *    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

sent  to  summon  the  place.     The  Irish  threatened  to  hang  him 

•*•  O 

for  bringing  such  a  message,  set  fire  to  the  town,  and  retired 
into  two  forts  called  the  Old  and  the  New*  The  English  horse 
arrived  just  in  time  to  extinguish  the  flames.  Marlborough 
speedily  followed  with  his  infantry.  The  Old  Fort  was  scaled  ; 
and  four  hundred  and  fifty  men  who  defended  it  were  killed  or 
taken.  The  New  Fort  it  was  necessary  to  attack  in  a  more 
methodical  way.  Batteries  were  planted :  trenches  were 
opened  :  mines  were  sprung :  in  a  few  days  the  besiegers  were 
masters  of  the  counterscarp:  and  all  was  ready  for  storming, 
when  the  governor  offered  to  capitulate.  The  garrison,  twelve 
hundred  strong,  was  suffered  to  retire  to  Limerick ;  but  the 
conquerors  took  possession  of  the  stores,  which  were  of  consid- 
erable value.  Of  all  the  Irish  ports  Kinsale  was  the  best  situa- 
ted for  intercourse  with  France.  Here,  therefore,  was  a  plenty 
unknown  in  any  other  part  of  Munster  At  Limerick  bread 
and  wine  were  luxuries  which  generals  .uid  privy  councillors 
were  not  always  able  to  procure.  But  in  the  New  Fort  of 
Kinsale  Marlborough  found  a  thousand  barrels  of  wheat  and 
eighty  pipes  of  claret. 

His  success  had  been  complete  and  rapid  :  and  indeed,  had 
it  not  been  rapid,  i!;  would  not  have  been  complete.  His 
campaign,  short  as  it  was,  had  been  long  enough  to  allow  time 
for  the  deadly  work  which,  in  that  age,  the  moist  earth  and  air 
of  Ireland  seldom  failed,  in  the  autumnal  season,  to  perform  on 
English  soldiers.  The  malady  which  had  thinned  the  ranks  of 
Schomberg's  army  at  Dundalk,  and  which  had  compelled  Wil- 
liam to  make  a  hasty  retreat  from  the  estuary  of  the  Shannon, 
had  begun  to  appear  at  Kinsale.  Quick  and  vigorous  as  Marl- 
borough's  operations  were,  he  lost  a  much  greater  number  of 
men  by  disease  than  by  the  fire  of  the  enemy.  He  presented 
himself  at  Kensington  only  five  weeks  after  he  had  sailed  from 
Portsmouth,  and  was  most  graciously  received.  "  No  officer 
living,"  said  William,  "  who  has  seen  so  little  service  as  my 
Lord  Marlborough,  is  so  fit  for  great  commands."  * 

*  As  to  M.arTborough's  expedition,  see  Story's  Impartial  History  ;  the  Life- 
of  James,  ii.  419,  420  ;  London  Gazette,  Oct.  6,  13, 10,  27,  30,  1690  ;  Monthly  Mer- 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  71 

In  Scotland,  as  in  Ireland,  the  aspect  of  things  had,  during 
this  memorable  summer,  changed  greatly  for  the  better.  The 
Club  of  discontented  Whigs  which  had,  in  the  preceding  year, 
ruled  the  Parliament,  browbeaten  the  ministers,  refused  the 
supplies  and  stopped  the  signet,  had  sunk  under  general  con- 
tempt, and  had  at  length  ceased  to  exist.  There  was  harmony 
between  the  Sovereign  and  the  Estates ;  and  the  long  contest 
between  two  forms  of  ecclesiastical  government  had  been 
terminated  in  the  only  way  compatible  with  the  peace  and 
prosperity  of  the  country. 

This  happy  turn  in  affairs  is  to  be  chiefly  ascribed  to  the 
errors  of  the  perfidious,  turbulent  and  revengeful  Montgomery. 
Some  weeks  after  the  close  of  that  session  during  which  he  had 
exercised  a  boundless  authority  over  the  Scottish  Parliament, 
he  went  to  London  with  his  two  principal  confederates,  the 
Earl  of  Annandale  and  the  Lord  Ross.  The  three  had  an  au- 
dience of  William,  and  presented  to  him  a  manifesto  setting 
forth  what  they  demanded  for  the  public.  They  would  very 
soon  have  changed  their  tone  if  he  would  have  granted  what 
they  demanded  for  themselves.  But  he  resented  their  con- 
duct deeply,  and  was  determined  not  to  pay  them  for.  annoying 
him.  The  reception  which  he  gave  them  convinced  them  that 
they  had  no  favour  to  expect.  Montgomery's  passions  were 
fierce  :  his  wants  were  pressing :  he  was  miserably  poor ;  and, 
if  he  could  not  speedily  force  himself  into  a  lucrative  office,  he 
would  be  in  danger  of  rotting  in  a  gaol.  Since  his  services 
were  not  likely  to  be  bought  by  William,  they  must  be  offered 
to  James.  A  broker  was  easily  found.  Montgomery  was  an 
old  acquaintance  of  Ferguson.  The  two  traitors  soon  under- 
stood each  other.  They  were  kindred  spirits,  differing  widely 
in  intellectual  power,  but  equally  vain,  restless,  false  and  malev- 
olent. Montgomery  was  introduced  to  Neville  Payne,  one  of 
the  most  adroit  and  resolute  agents  of  the  exiled  family.  Payne 
had  been  long  well  known  about  town  as  a  dabbler  in  poetry 
and  politics.  He  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  the  indiscreet 

cury  for  Nov.  1690 ;  History  of  King  William,  1702  ;  Burnet,  ii.  60  ;  tlie  Life  of 
•Joseph  Pike,  a  Quaker  of  Cork. 


and  unfortunate  Colemau,  and  had  been  committed  to  Newgate 


as  an  accomplice  in  the  Popish  plot.  His  moral  character  had 
not  stood  high  :  but  he  soon  had  an  opportunity  of  proving  that 
he  possessed  courage  and  fidelity  worthy  of  a  better  cause  than 
that,  of  James,  and  of  a  better  associate  than  Montgomery. 

The  negotiation  speedily  ended  in  a  treaty  of  alliance. 
Payne  confidently  promised  Montgomery,  not  merely  pardon, 
but  riches,  power,  and  dignity.  Montgomery  as  confidently 
undertook  to  induce  the  Parliament  of  Scotland  to  recall  the 
rightful  King.  Ross  and  Annandale  readily  agreed  to  whatever 
their  able  and  active  colleague  proposed.  An  adventurer,  who 
was  sometimes  called  Simpson  and  sometimes  Jones,  who  was 
perfectly  willing  to  serve  or  to  betray  any  government  for  hire, 
and  who  received  wages  at  once  from  Portland  and  from  Neville 
Payne,  undertook  to  carry  the  offers  of  the  Club  to  James. 
Montgomery  and  his  two  noble  accomplices  returned  to  Edin- 
burgh, and  there  proceeded  to  form  a  coalition  with  their  old 
enemies,  the  defenders  of  prelacy  and  of  arbitrary  power.* 

The  two  extreme  Scottish  factions,  one  hostile  to  all  liberty, 
the  other  impatient  of  all  government,  flattered  themselves 
during  a  short  time  with  hopes  that  the  civil  war  would  break 
out  in  the  Highlands  with  redoubled  fury.  But  those  hopes  were 
disappointed.  In  the  spring  of  1G90  an  officer  named  Buchan 
arrived  in  Lochaber  from  Ireland.  He  bore  a  commission  which 
appointed  him  general  in  chief  of  all  the  forces  which  were  in 
arms  for  King  James  throughout  the  kingdom  of  Scotland. 
Cannon,  who  had,  since  the-  death  of  Dundee,  held  the  first 
post,  and  had  proved  himself  unfit  for  it,  became  second  in  com- 
mand. Little  however  was  gained  by  the  change.  It  was  no 
p;isy  matter  to  induce  the  Gaelic  princes  to  renew  the  war. 
J.ideed,  but  for  the  influence  and  eloquence  of  Lochiel,  not  a 
sword  would  have  been  drawn  in  the  cause  of  the  House  of 
Stuart.  He,  with  some  difficulty,  persuaded  the  chieftains, 
who  had,  in  the  preceding  year,  fought  at  KiJliecrankie,  to  come 

*  Balcarras ;  Annandale's  Confession  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers  j 
Burnet,  ii-  35.  As  to  Payne,  see  the  Second  Modest  Inquiry  into  the  Cause  oi 
the  present  Disasters,  1090 


to  a  resolution  that,  before  the  end  of  the  summer,  they  would 
muster  all  their  followers  and  march  into  the  Lowlands.  In 
the  meantime  twelve  hundred  mountaineers  of  different  tribes 
were  placed  under  the  orders  of  Buchan,  who  undertook,  with 
this  force,  to  keep  the  English  garrison  in  constant  alarm  by 
feints  and  incursions,  till  the  season  for  more  important  opera- 
tions should  arrive.  He  accordingly  marched  into  Strathspey. 
But  all  his  plans  were  speedily  disconcerted  by  the  boldness 
and  dexterity  of  Sir  Thomas  Livingstone,  who  held  Inverness 
for  King  William.  Livingstone,  guided  and  assisted  by  the 
Grants,  who  were  firmly  attached  to  the  new  government,  came, 
with  a  strong  body  of  cavalry  and  dragoons,  by  forced  marches 
and  through  arduous  defiles,  to  the  place  where  the  Jacobites 
had  taken  up  their  quarters.  He  reached  the  camp  fires  at 
dead  of  night.  The  first  alarm  was  given  by  the  rush  of  the 
horses  over  the  terrified  sentinels  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd  of 
Celts  who  lay  sleeping  in  their  plaids.  Buchan  escaped  bare- 
headed and  without  his  sword.  Cannon  ran  away  in  his  shirt. 
The  conquerors  lost  not  a  man.  Four  hundred  Highlanders 
were  killed  or  taken.  The  rest  fled  to  their  hills  and  mists.* 

This  event  put  an  end  to  all  thoughts  of  civil  war.  The 
gathering  which  had  been  planned  for  the  summer  never  took 
place.  Lochiel,  even  if  he  had  been  willing,  was  not  able  to 
sustain  any  longer  the  falling  cause.  He  had  been  laid  on  his 
bed  by  a  mishap  which  would  alone  suffice  to  show  how  little 
could  be  effected  by  a  confederacy  of  the  petty  kings  of  the 
mountains.  At  a  consultation  of-  the  Jacobite  leaders,  a  gen- 
tleman from  the  Lowlands  spoke  with  severity  of  those  syco- 
phants who  had  changed  their  religion  to  curry  favour  with 
King  James.  Glengarry  was  one  of  those  people  who  think  it 
dignified  to  suppose  that  everybody  is  always  insulting  them. 
He  took  it  into  his  head  that  some  allusion  to  himself  was 
meant.  "  I  am  as  good  a  Protestant  as  you ; "  he  cried,  and 
added  a  word  not  to  be  patiently  borne  by  a  man  of  spirit.  In 
a  moment  both  swords  were  out.  Lochiel  thrust  himself  be- 

*  Balearras  ;  Mackay's  Memoirs  ;   History  of  the  late  Revolution  in  Scotland, 
1690 ;  Livingstou'B  Report,  dated  .May  1 ;  London  Gazette,  May  12, 100Q. 


tvveen  the  combatants,  and,  while  forcing  them  asundei,  received 
a  wound  which  was  at  first  believed  to  be  mortal.* 

So  effectually  had  the  spirit  of  the  disaffected  clans  been 
cowed  that  Mackay  marched  unresisted  from  Perth  into  Lo- 
chaber,  fixed  his  headquarters  at  Inverlochy,  and  proceeded 
to  execute  his  favourite  design  of  erecting  at  that  place  a  for- 
tress which  might  overawe  the  mutinous  Camerons  and  Mac- 
donalds.  In  a  few  days  the  walls  were  raised  :  the  ditches  were 
sunk  :  the  palisades  were  fixed :  demiculverins  from  a  ship  of 
war  were  ranged  along  the  parapets  ;  arid  the  general  departed, 
leaving  an  officer  named  Hill  in  command  of  a  sufficient  garrison. 
Within  the  defences  there  was  no  want  of  oatmeal,  red  herrings, 

i  O     ' 

and  beef ;  and  there  was  rather  a  superabundance  of  brandy. 
The  new  stronghold,  which,  hastily  and  rudely  as  it  had  been 
constructed,  seemed  doubtless  to  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood 
the  most  stupendous  work  that  power  and  science  united  had 
ever  produced,  was  named  Fort  William  in  honour  of  the 

By  this  time  the  Scottish  Parliament  had  reassembled  at 
Edinburgh.  William  had  found  it  no  easy  matter  to  decide 
what  course  should  be  taken  with  that  capricious  and  unruly 
body.  The  English  Commons  had  sometimes  put  him  out  of 
temper.  Yet  they  had  granted  him  millions,  and  had  never 
asked  from  him  such  concessions  as  had  been  imperiously  de- 
manded by  the  Scottish  legislature,  which  could  give  him  little 
and  had  given  him  nothing.  The  English  statesmen  with 
whom  he  had  to  deal  did  not  generally  stand  or  deserve  to  stand 
high  in  his  esteem.  Yet  few  of  them  were  so  utterly  false  and 
shameless  as  the  leading  Scottish  politicians.  Hamilton  was,  in 
morality  and  honour,  rather  above  than  below  his  fellows  ;  and 
even  Hamilton  was  fickle,  false,  and  greedy.  "  I  wish  to  hea- 
ven," William  was  once  provoked  into  exclaiming,  "  that  Scot- 

*  History  of  the  late  Kevolution  in  Scotland,  1690. 

t  Mackay's  Memoirs  and  Letters  to  Hamilton  of  June  20  and  24,  1C90 ;  Colonel 
Hill  to  Melville,  July  10,  26  ;  London  Gazette,  July  17,  21.  As  to  Inverlochy, 
see  among  the  Culloden  papers,  a  Plan  for  preserving  the  Peace  of  the  High- 
lauds,  drawn  up  at  this  time,  by  the  father  of  President  Forbes. 

•WILLIAM   AND    MART.  75 

land  were  a  thousand  miles  off,  and  that  the  Duke  of  Hamilton 
were  King  of  it.     Then  I  should  be  rid  of  them  both." 

After  much  deliberation,  William  determined  to  send  Mel- 
ville down  to  Edinburgh  as  Lord  High  Commissioner.  Mel- 
ville was  not  a  great  statesman  :  he  was  not  a  great  orator  :  he 
did  not  look  or  move  like  the  representative  of  royalty :  his 
character  was  not  of  more  than  standard  purity  :  and  the  stand- 
ard of  purity  among  Scottish  senators  was  not  high:  but  he 
was  by  no  means  deficient  in  prudence  or  temper :  and  he  suc- 
ceeded, on  the  whole,  better  than  a  man  of  much  higher  qualities 
might  have  done. 

During  the  first  days  of  the  Session,  the  friends  of  the  govern- 
ment desponded,  and  the  chiefs  of  the  opposition  were  sanguine. 
Montgomery's  head,  though  by  no  means  a  weak  one,  had  been 
turned  by  the  triumphs  of  the  preceding  year.  He  believed  that 
his  intrigues  and  his  rhetoric  had  completely  subjugated  the 
Estates.  It  seemed  to  him  impossible  that,  having  exercised  a 
boundless  empire  in  the  Parliament  House  when  the  Jacobites 
were  absent,  he  should  be  defeated  when  they  were  present,  and 
ready  to  support  whatever  he  proposed.  He  had  not  indeed 
found  it  easy  to  prevail  on  them  to  attend :  for  they  could  not 
take  their  seats  without  taking  the  oaths.  A  few  of  them  had 
some  slight  scruple  of  conscience  about  forswearing  themselves  ; 
and  many,  who  did  not  know  what  a  scruple  of  conscience 
meant,  were  apprehensive  that  they  might  offend  the  rightful 
King  by  vowing  fealty  to  the  actual  King.  Some  Lords,  how 
ever,  who  were  supposed  to  be  in  the  confidence  of  James, 
asserted  that,  to  their  knowledge,  he  wished  his  friends  to  per- 
jure themselves  ;  and  this  assertion  induced  most  of  the  Jaco- 
bites, with  Balcarras  at  their  head,  to  be  guilty  of  perfidy  ag- 
gravated by  impiety.* 

It  soon  appeared,  however,  that  Montgomery's  faction,  even 
with  this  reinforcement,  was  no  longer  a  majority  of  the  legis- 
lature. For  every  supporter  that  he  had  gained  he  had  lost 
two.  He  had  committed  an  error  which  has  more  than  once,  in 
British  history,  been  fatal  to  great  parliamentary  leaders.  He  had 

*  Balcarras. 


imagined  that,  as  soon  as  he  chose  to  coalesce  with  those  to 
whom  he  had  recently  been  opposed,  all  his  followers  would 
imitate  his  example.  He  soon  found  that  it  was  much  easier 
to  inflame  animosities  than  to  appease  them.  The  great  body 
of  Whigs  and  Presbyterians  shrank  from  the  fellowship  of  the 
Jacobites.  Some  waverers  were  purchased  by  the  government ; 
nor  was  the  purchase  expensive  j  for  a  sum  which  would  hardly 
be  missed  in  the  English  treasury  was  immense  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  needy  barons  of  the  North.*  Thus  the  scale  was 
turned;  and,  in  the  Scottish  Parliaments  of  that  age,  the  turn 
of  the  scale  was  everything:  the  tendency  of  majorities  was 
almost  always  to  increase,  the  tendency  of  minorities  to  di- 

The  first  question  on  which  a  vote  was  taken  related  to  the 
election  for  a  borough.  The  ministers  carried  their  point  by 
six  voices.f  In  an  instant  everything  was  changed :  the  spell 
was  broken  :  the  Club,  from  being  a  bugbear,  became  a  laugh- 
ingstock :  the  timid  and  the  venal  passed  over  in  crowds  from 
the  weaker  to  the  stronger  side.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  op- 
position attempted  to  revive  the  disputes  of  the  preceding  year. 
The  King  had  wisely  authorised  Melville  to  give  up  the  Com- 
mittee of  Articles.  The  Estates,  on  the  other  hand,  showed 
no  disposition  to  pass  another  Act  of  Incapacitation,  to  censure 
the  government  for  opening  the  Courts  of  Justice,  or  to  ques- 
tion the  right  of  the  Sovereign  to  name  the  Judges.  An  ex- 
traordinary supply  was  voted,  small,  according  to  the  notions  of 
English  financiers,  but  large  for  the  means  of  Scotland.  The 
sum  granted  was  a  hundred  and  sixty-two  thousand  pounds 
sterling,  to  be  raised  in  the  course  of  four  years. t 

The  Jacobites,  who  found  that  they  had  forsworn  themselves 
to  no  purpose,  sate,  bowed  down  by  shame  and  writhing  with 
vexation,  while  Montgomery,  who  had  deceived  himself  and 
them,  and  who,  in  his  rage,  had  utterly  lost,  not  indeed  his 
parts  and  his  fluency,  but  all  decorum  and  self-command,  scold- 

*  See  the  instructions  to  the  Lord  High  Commissioner  in  the  Leven  and  Mel- 
ville Papers. 

1  Balcarrae.  t  Act.  Parl.  June  7, 1690. 


ed  like  a  waterman  on  the  Thames,  and  was  answered 'wjth 
equal  asperity  and  even  more  than  equal  ability  by  Sir  John 

The  most  important  Acts  of  this  Session  were  those  which 
fixed  the  ecclesiastical  constitution  of  Scotland.  By  the  Claim  of 
Right  it  had  been  declared  that  the  authority  of  Bishops  was  an 
insupportable  grievance  ;  and  William,  by  accepting  the  Crown, 
had  bound  himself  not  to  uphold  an  institution  condemned  by  the 
very  instrument  on  which  his  title  to  the  Crown  depended.  But 
the  claim  of  Right  had  not  defined  the  form  of  Church  govern- 
ment which  was  to  be  substituted  for  episcopacy  ;  and,  during 
the  stormy  Session  held  in  the  summer  of  1689,the  violence  of  the 
Club  had  made  legislation  impossible.  During  many  months 
therefore  everything  had  been  in  confusion.  One  polity  had  been 
pulled  down  ;  and  no  other  polity  had  been  set  up.  In  the 
Western  Lowlands,  the  beneficed  clergy  had  been  so  effectually 
rabbled,  that  scarcely  one  of  them  had  remained  at  his  post. 
In  Berwickshire,  the  three  Lothians  and  Stirlingshire,  most  of 
the  curates  had  been  removed  by  the  Privy  Council  for  not 
obeying  that  vote  of  the  Convention  which  had  directed  all 
ministers  of  parishes,  on  pain  of  deprivation,  to  proclaim  William 
and  Mary  King  and  Queen  of  Scotland.  Thus,  throughout  a 
great  part  of  the  realm,  there  was  no  public  worship,  except 
what  was  performed  by  Presbyterian  divines,  who  sometimes 
officiated  in  tents,  and  sometimes,  without  any  legal  right,  took 
possession  of  the  churches.  But  there  were  large  districts, 
especially  on  the  north  of  the  Tay,  where  the  people  had  no 
strong  feeling  against  episcopacy ;  and  there  were  many  priests 
who  were  not  disposed  to  lose  their  manses  and  stipends  for  the 
sake  of  King  James.  Hundreds  of  the  old  curates,  there- 
fore, having  been  neither  hunted  by  the  populace  nor  deposed 
by  the  Council,  still  continued  to  exercise  their  spiritual  func- 
tions. Every  minister  was,  during  this  time  of  transition,  free 
to  conduct  the  service  and  to  administer  the  sacraments  as  he 
thought  fit.  There  was  no  controlling  authority.  The  legisla- 

*  Bali-arras. 


ture  had  taken  away  the  jurisdiction  of  Bishops,  and  had  not 
established  the  jurisdiction  of  Synods.* 

To  put  an  end  to  this  anarchy  was  one  of  the  first  duties  of 
the  Parliament.  Melville  had,  with  the  powerful  assistance  of 
Carstairs,  obtained  from  the  King,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances 
of  English  statesmen  and  divines,  authority  to  assent  to  such 
ecclesiastical  arrangements  as  might  satisfy  the  Scottish  nation. 
One  of  the  first  laws  which  the  Lord  Commissioner  touched 
with  the  sceptre  repealed  the  Act  of  Supremacy.  He  next 
gave  the  royal  assent  to  a  law  enacting  that  the  Presbyterian 
divines  who  had  been  pastors  of  parishes  in  the  days  of  the 
Covenant,  and  had,  after  the  Restoration,  been  ejected  for  re- 
fusing to  acknowledge  episcopal  authority,  should  be  restored. 
The  number  of  those  pastors  had  originally  been  about  three 
hundred  and  fifty  :  but  not  more  than  sixty  were  still  living. t 

The  Estates  then  proceeded  to  fix  the  national  creed.  The 
Confession  of  Faith  drawn  up  by  the  Assembly  of  Divines  at 
Westminster,  the  Longer  and  Shorter  Catechism,  and  the  Di- 
rectory,  considered  by  every  good  Presbyterian  as  the 
standards  of  orthodoxy ;  and  it  was  hoped  that  the  legislature 
would  recognise  them  as  such.J  This  hope,  however,  was  in  part 
disappointed.  The  Confession  was  read  at  length,  amidst  much 
yawning,  and  adopted  without  alteration.  But,  when  it  was  pro- 
posed that  the  Catechisms  and  the  Directory  should  be  taken 
into  consideration,  the  ill  humour  of  the  audience  broke  forth 
into  murmurs.  For  that  love  of  long  sermons  which  was  strong 
in  the  Scottish  commonalty  was  not  shared  by  the  Scottish  aris- 
tocracy. The  Parliament  had  already  been  listening  during 
three  hours  to  dry  theology,  and  was  not  inclined  to  hear  any- 
thing more  about  original  sin  and  election.  The  Duke  of  Ham- 
ilton said  that  the  Estates  had  already  done  all  that  was  essen- 
tial. They  had  given  their  sanction  to  a  digest  of  the  great 

*  Faithful  Contendings  Displayed ;  Case  of  the  present  Afflicted  Episcopal 
Clergy  in  Scotland,  1690. 

t  Act  Parl.  April  25,  1690. 

t  See  the  Humble  Address  of  the  Presbyterian  Ministers  and  Professors  of 
the  Church  of  Scotland  to  His  Grace  His  Majesty's  High  Commissioner  and  to 
the  Kight  Honourable  the  Estates  of  Parliament. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  79 

principles  of  Christianity.  The  rest  might  well  be  left  to  the 
Church.  The  weary  majority  eagerly  assented,  in  spite  of  the 
muttering  of  some  zealous  Presbyterian  ministers  who  had  been 
admitted  to  hear  the  debate,  and  who  could  sometimes  hardly 
restrain  themselves  from  taking  part  in  it.* 

The  Memorable  law  which  fixed  the  ecclesiastical  constitu- 
tion of  Scotland  was  brought  in  by  the  Earl  of  Sutherland. 
,  By  this  law  the  synodical  polity  was  reestablished.  The  rule  of 
the  Church  was  entrusted  to  the  sixty  ejected  ministers  who  had 
just  been  restored,  and  to  such  other  persons,  whether  ministers 
or  elders,  as  the  Sixty  should  think  fit  to  admit  to  a  participation 
of  power.  The  Sixty  and  their  nominees  were  authorised  to  visit 
all  the  parishes  in  the  kingdom,  and  to  turn  out  all  ministers  who 
were  deficient  in  abilities,  scandalous  in  morals,  or  unsound  in 
faith.  Those  parishes  which  had,  during  the  interregnum,  been 
deserted  by  their  pastors,  or,  in  plain  words,  those  parishes  of 
which  the  pastors  had  been  rabbled,  were  declared  vacant,  f 

To  the  clause  which  reestablished  synodical  government  no 
serious  opposition  appears  to  have  been  made.  But  three  days 
were  spent  in  discussing  the  question  whether  the  Sovereign 
should  have  power  to  convoke  and  to  dissolve  ecclesiastical  as 
semblies  ;  and  the  point  was  at  length  left  in  dangerous  ambigu- 
ity. Some  other  clauses  were  long  and  vehemently  debated. 
It  was  said  that  the  immense  power  given  to  the  Sixty  was  in- 
compatible with  the  fundamental  principle  of  the  polity  which 
the  Estates  were  about  to  set  up.  That  principle  was  that  all 
presbyters  were  equal,  and  that  there  ought  to  be  no  order  of 
ministers  of  religion  superior  to  the  order  of  presbyters.  What 
did  it  matter  whether  the  Sixty  were  called  prelates  or  not.  if 
they  were  to  lord  it  with  more  than  prelatical  authority  over 
God's  heritage  ?  To  the  argument  that  the  proposed  arangement 
was,  in  the  very  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  Church,  the  most 
convenient  that  could  be  made,  the  objectors  replied  that  such' 
reasoning  might  suit  the  mouth  of  an  Erastian,  but  that  all  or- 

*  See  the  account  of  the  late  Establishment  of  Presbyterian  Government  by 
the  Parliament  of  Scotland,  Anno  1690.  This  is  afl  Episcopalian  narrative.  Act 
Parl.  May  26.  1690. 

t  Act.  Parl.  June  7,  1690. 


thodox  Presbyterians  held  the  parity  of  ministers  to  be  ordained 
by  Christ,  and  that,  where  Christ  had  spoken,  Christians  were 
not  at  liberty  to  consider  what  was  convenient.* 

With  much  greater  warmth  and  much  stronger  reason,  the 
minority  attacked  the  clause  which  sanctioned  the  lawless  acts 
of  the  Western  fanatics.  Surely,  it  was  said,  a  rabbled  curate 
might  well  be  left  to  the  severe  scrutiny  of  the  sixty  Inquisitors. 
If  he  was  deficient  in  parts  or  learning,  if  he  was  loose  in  life.* 
if  he  was  heterodox  in  doctrine,  those  stern  judges  would  not  fail 
to  detect  and  to  depose  him.  They  would  probably  think  a 
game  at  bowls,  a  prayer  borrowed  from  the  English  Liturgy,  or 
a  sermon  in  which  the  slightest  taint  of  Arminianism  could  be 
discovered,  a  sufficient  reason  for  pronouncing  his  benefice  va- 
cant. Was  it  not  monstrous,  after  constituting  a  tribunal  from 
which  he  could  scarcely  hope  for  bare  justice,  to  condemn  him 
without  allowing  him  to  appear  §ven  before  that  tribunal,  to 
condemn  him  without  a  trial,  to  condemn  him  without  an  aCcu- 
sation  ?  Did  ever  any  grave  senate  since  the  beginning  of  the 
world,  treat  a  man  as  a  criminal  merely  because  he  had  been 
robbed,  pelted,  hustled,  dragged  through  snow  and  mire,  and 
threatened  with  death  if  he  returned  to  the  house  which  was  his 
by  law?  The  Duke  of  Hamilton,  glad  to  have  so  good  an  oppor- 
tunity of  attacking  the  new  Lord  Commissioner,  spoke  with 
great  vehemence  against  this  odious  clause.  We  are  told  that 
no  attempt  was  made  to  answer  him  ;  and,  though  those  who 
tell  us  so  were  zealous  Episcopalians,  we  may  believe  their  re- 
port :  for  what  answer  was  it  possible  to  return  ?  Melville,  on 
whom  the  chief  responsibility  lay,  sate  on  the  throne  in  profound 
silence  through  the  whole  of  this  tempestuous  debate.  It  is 
probable  that  his  conduct  was  determined  by  considerations  which 
prudence  and  shame  prevented  him  from  explaining.  The 
state  of  the  southwestern  shires  was  such  that  it  would  have 
"been  impossible  to  put  the  rabbled  ministers  in  possession  of 
their  dwellings  and  churches  without  employing  a  military  force, 

t  An  Historical  Relation  #f  the  late  Presbvterian  General  Assembly  in  a 
Letter  from  a  Person  in  Edinburgh  to  his  Friend  in  London.  London,  licensed 
April  20,  1691. 


without  garrisoning  every  manse,  without  placing  guards  round 
every  pulpit,  and  without  handing  over  some  ferocious  enthusi- 
asts to  the  Provost  Martial ;  and  it  would  be  no  easy  task  for 
the  government  to  keep  down  by  the  sword  at  once  the  Jacob- 
ites of  the  Highlands  and  the  Covenanters  of  the  Lowlands. 
The  majority,  having,  for  reasons  which  could  not  well  be  pro- 
duced, made  up  their  minds,  became  clamorous  for  the  question. 
"  No  more  debate,"  was  the  cry :  "  We  have  heard  enough  :  a 
vote  !  a  vote  !  "  The  question  was  put  according  to  the  Scottish 
form,  "  Approve  or  not  approve  the  article  ?  "  Hamilton  in- 
sisted that  the  question  should  be,  "  Approve  or  not  approve  the 
rabbling  ?  "  After  much  altercation  he  was  overruled,  and  the 
clause  passed.  Only  fifteen  or  sixteen  members  voted  with  him. 
He  warmly  and  loudly  exclaimed,  amidst' much  angry  interrup- 
tion, that  he  was  sorry  to  see  a  Scottish  Parliament  disgrace 
itself  by  such  iniquity.  He  then  left  the  house  with  several  of 
his  friends.  It  is  impossible  not  to  sympathise  with  the  indig- 
nation which  he  expressed.  Yet  we  ought  to  remember  that  it 
is  the  nature  of  injustice  to  generate  injustice.  There  are 
wrongs  which  it  is  almost  impossible  to  repair  without  commit- 
ting other  wrongs  ;  and  such  a  wrong  had  been  done  to  the  people 
of  Scotland  in  the  preceding  generation.  It  was  because  the 
Parliament  of  ths  Restoration  had  legislated  in  insolent  defiance 
of  the  sense  of  the  nation  that  the  Parliament  of  the  Revolution 
had  to  abase  itself  before  the  mob. 

When  Hamilton  and  his  adherents  had  retired,  one  of  the 
preachers  who  had  been  admitted  to  the  hall  called  out  to  the 
members  who  were  near  him ;  "  Fie !  Fie !  Do  not  lose  time. 
Make  haste,  and  get  all  over  before  he  comes  back."  This 
advice  was  taken.  Four  or  five  sturdy  Prelatists. staid  to  give 
a  last  vote  agiinst  Presbytery.  Four  or  five  equally  sturdy 
Covenanters  staid  to  mark  their  dislike  of  what  seemed  to  them 
a  compromise  between  the  Lord  and  Baal.  But  the  Act  was 
passed  by  an  overwhelming  majority.* 

Two  supplementary  Acts  speedily  followed.     One  of  them 

*  Account  of  the  late  Establishment  of  the  Presbyterian  lioveruuieut  by  the 
Parliament  of  Scot  land,  IttX), 

VOL.  IV.— 6 


now  happily  repealed,  required  every  officebearer  in  every  Uni- 
versity of  Scotland  to  sign  the  Confession  of  Faith  and  to  give 
in  his  adhesion  to  the  new  form  of  Church  government.*  The 
other,  long  ago  most  unhappily  repealed,  settled  the  important 
and  delicate  question  of  patronage.  Knox  had,  in  the  First 
Book  of  Discipline,  asserted  the  right  of  every  Christian  congre- 
gation to  choose  its  own  pastor.  Melville  had  not,  in  the  Sec- 
ond Book  of  Discipline,  gone  quite  so  far ;  but  he  had  declared 
that  no  pastor  could  lawfully  be  forced  on  an  unwilling  congre- 
gation. Patronage  had  been  abolished  by  a  Covenanted  Par- 
liament in  1649,  and  restored  by  a  Royalist  Parliament  in  1661. 
What  ought  to  be  done  in  1690  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  decide. 
Scarcely  any  question  seems  to  have  caused  so  much  anxiety  to 
William.  He  had,  in  his  private  instructions,  given  the  Lord 
Commissioner  authority  to  assent  to  the  abolition  of  patronage 
if  nothing  else  would  satisfy  the  Estates.  But  this  authority 
was  most  unwillingly  given  ;  and  the  King  hoped  that  it  would 
not  be  used.  "  It  is,"  he  said,  "  the  taking  of  men's  property." 
Melville  succeeded  in  effecting  a  compromise.  Patronage  was 
abolished  :  but  it  was  enacted  that  every  patron  should  receive 
six  hundred  marks  Scots,  equivalent  to  about  thirty-five  pounds 
sterling,  as  a  compensation  for  his  rights.  The  sum  seems  lu- 
dicrously small.  Yet,  when  the  nature  of  the  property  and  the 
poverty  of  the  country  are  considered,  it  may  be  doubted  wheth- 
er a  patron  would  have  made  much  more  by  going  into  the 
market.  The  largest  sum  that  any  member  ventured  to  suggest 
was  nine  hundred  marks,  little  more  than  fifty  pounds  sterling. 
The  right  of  proposing  a  minister  was  given  to  a  parochial 
counsel  consisting  of  the  Protestant  landowners  and  the  elders. 
The  congregation  might  object  to  the  persons  proposed ;  and 
the  Presbytery  was  to  judge  of  the  objections.  This  arrange- 
ment did  not  give  to  the  people  all  the  power  to  which  even  the 
Second  Book  of  Discipline  had  declared  that  they  were  entitled. 
But  the  odious  name  of  patronage  was  taken  away ;  it  was 
probably  thought  that  the  elders  and  landowners  of  a  parish 
would  seldom  persist  in  nominating  a  person  to  whom  the  ma- 

*  Act.  Parl.  July  4, 1690. 


jority  of  the  congregation  had  strong  objections  ;  and  indeed  it 
does  not  appear  that,  while  the  Act  of  1690  continued  in  force, 
the  peace  of  the  Church  was  ever  broken  by  disputes  such  as 
produced  the  schisms  of  1732,  of  1756,  and  of  1843.* 

Montgomery  had  done  all  in  his  power  to  prevent  the  Es- 
tates from  settling  the  ecclesiastical  polity  of  the  realm.  Pie 
had  incited  the  zealous  Covenanters  to  demand  what  he  knew 
that  the  government  would  never  grant.  He  had  protested 
against  all  Erastianisra,  against  ail  compromise.  Dutch  Pres- 
byt^rianism,  he  said,  would  not  do  for  Scotland.  She  must 
have  again  the  system  of  1649.  That  system  was  deduced 
from  the  Word  of  God :  it  was  the  most  powerful  check  that 
had  ever  been  devised  on  the  tyranny  of  wicked  kings  ;  and  it 
ought  to  be  restored  without  addition  or  diminution.  His  Jac- 
obite allies  could  not  conceal  their  disgust  and  mortification  at 
hearing  him  hold  such  language,  and  were  by  no  means  satisfied 
with  the  explanations  which  he  gave  them  in  private.  While 
they  were  wrangling  with  him  on  this  subject,  a  messenger  ar- 
rived at  Edinburgh  with  important  despatches  from  James  and 
from  Mary  of  Modena.  These  despatches  had  been  written  in 
the  confident  expectation  that  the  large  promises  of  Montgom- 
ery would  be  fulfilled,  and  that  the  Scottish  Estates  would,  under 
his  dexterous  management  declare  for  the  rightful  Sovereign 

O  CT  O 

against  the  Usurper.  James  was  so  grateful  for  the  unexpected 
support  of  his  old  enemies  that  he  entirely  forgot  the  services 
and  disregarded  the  feelings  of  his  old  friends.  The  three 
chiefs  of  the  Club,  rebels  and  Puritans  as  they  were,  had  be- 
come his  favourites.  Annandale  was  to  be  a  Marquess,  Gov- 
ernor of  Edinburgh  Castle,  and  Lord  High  Commissioner. 
Montgomery  was  to  be  Earl  of  Ayr  and  Secretary  of  State. 
Ross  was  to  be  an  Earl  and  to  command  the  guards.  James 
Stewart,  the  most  unprincipled  of  lawyers,  who  had  been  deeply 
concerned  in  Argyle's  insurrection,  who  had  changed  sides  and 
supported  the  dispensing  power,  who  had  then  changed  sides  a 
second  time  and  concurred  in  the  Revolution,  and  who  had  now 
changed  sides  a  third  time  and  was  scheming  to  bring  about  a 

*  Act.  Parl.  July  19, 1690  ;  LockLart  to  Melville,  April  29, 1690. 


^Restoration,  was  to  be  Lord  Advocate.  The  Privy  Council, 
the  Court  of  Session,  the  army,  were  to  be  filled  with  Whigs. 
A  Council  of  Five  was  appointed,  which  all  loyal  subjects  were 
to  obey  ;  and  in  this  Council  Annaridale,  Ross,  and  Montgomery 
formed  the  majority.  Mary  of  Modena  informed  Montgomery 
that  five  thousand  pounds  sterling  had  been  remitted  to  his 
order,  and  that  five  thousand  more  would  soon  follow.  It  w;is 
impossible  that  Balcarras  and  those  who  had  acted  with  him 
should  not  bitterly  resent  the  manner  in  which  they  were  treated. 
Their  names  were  not  even  mentioned.  All  that  they  had 
done  and  suffered  seemed  to  have  faded  from  their  master's 
mind.  He  had  now  given  them  fair  notice  that,  if  they  should, 
at  the  hazard  of  their  lands  and  lives,  succeed  in  restoring  him, 
all  that  he  had  to  give  would  be  given  to  those  who  had  de- 
posed him.  They  too,  when  they  read  his  letters,  knew,  what 
he  did  not  know  when  the  letters  were  written,  that  he  had  been 
duped  by  the  confident  boasts  and  promises  of  the  apostate 
Whigs.  He,  when  he  despatched  his  messengers,  imagined  that 
the  Club  was  omnipotent  at  Edinburgh ;  and,  before  the  mes- 
sengers reached  Edinburgh,  the  Club  had  become  a  mere  by- 
word of  contempt.  The  Tory  Jacobites  easily  found  pretexts 
for  refusing  to  obey  the  Presbyterian  Jacobites  to  whom  the 
banished  King  had  delegated  his  authority.  They  complained 
that  Montgomery  had  not  shown  them  all  the  despatches  which 
he  had  received.  They  affected  to  suspect  that  he  had  tampered 
with  the  seals.  He  called  God  Almighty  to  witness  that  the 
suspicion  was  unfounded.  But  oaths  were  very  naturally  re- 
garded as  insufficient  guarantees  by  men  who  had  just  been 
swearing  allegiance  to  a  King  against  whom  they  were  conspir- 
ing. .There  was  a  violent  outbreak  of  passion  on  both  sides  :  the 
coalition  was  dissolved :  the  papers  were  flung  into  the  fire  ; 
and,  in  a  few  days,  the  infamous  triumvirs  who  had  been,  in 
the  short  space  of  a  year,  violent  Williamites  and  violent  Jacob- 
ites, became  Williamites  again,  and  attempted  to  make  their 
peace  with  the  government  by  accusing  each  other.* 

Ross  was  the  first  who  turned  informer.     After  the  fashion 
»  Balcarras  j  Confession  of  Anuaudale  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  papers. 


of  the  school  in  which  he  had  been  bred,  he  committed  this  base 
action  with  all  the  forms  of  sanctity.  He  pretended  to  be 
greatly  troubled  in  mind,  sent  for  a  celebrated  Presbyterian 
minister  named  Dunlop,  and  bemoaned  himself  piteously : 
"  There  is  a  load  on  my  conscience  :  there  is  a  secret  which  I 
know  that  I  ought  to  disclose :  but  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  do 
it."  Dunlop  prayed  long  and  fervently  :  Ross  groaned  and 
wept :  at  last  it  seemed  that  heaven  had  been  stormed  by  the 
violence  of  supplication  :  the  truth  came  out,  and  many  lies 
with  it.  The  divine  and  the  penitent  then  returned  thanks 
together.  Dunlop  went  with  the  news  to  Melville.  Ross  set 
off  for  England  to  make  his  peace  at  court,  and  performed  his 
journey  in  safety,  though  some  of  his  accomplices,  who  had 
heard  of  his  repentance,  but  had  been  little  edified  by  it,  had 
laid  plans  for  cutting  his  throat  by  the  way.  At  London  he 
protested,  on  his  honour,  and  on  the  word  of  a  gentleman,  that 
he  had  been  drawn  in,  that  he  had  always  disliked  the  plot,  and 
that  Montgomery  and  Ferguson  were  the  real  criminals.* 

Dunlop  was,  in  the  meantime,  magnifying,  wherever  he 
went,  the  divine  goodness  which  had,  by  so  humble  an  instrument 
as  himself,  brought  a  noble  person  back  to  the  right  path. 
Montgomery  no  sooner  heard  of  this  wonderful  work  of  grace 
than  he  too  began  to  experience  compunction.  He  went  to 
Melville,  made  a  confession  not  exactly  coinciding  with  Ross's, 
and  obtained  a  pass  for  England.  William  was  then  in  Ireland  ; 
and  Mary  was  governing  in  his  stead.  At  her  feet  Montgomery 
threw  himself.  He  tried  to  move  her  pity  by  speaking  of  his 
broken  fortunes,  and  to  ingratiate  himself  with  her  by  praising 
her  sweet  and  affable  manners.  He  gave  up  to  her  the  names 
of  his  fellow  plotters.  He  vowed  to  dedicate  his  whole  life  to  her 
service  if  she  would  obtain  for  him  some  place  which  might  en- 
able him  to  subsist  with  decency.  She  was  so  much  touched  byhis 
supplications  and  flatteries  that  she  recommended  him  to  her 
husband's  favour ;  but  the  just  distrust  and  abhorrence  with 
which  William  regarded  Montgomery  were  not  to  be  overcome. t 

*  Balcarras ;  Notes  of  Ross's  Confession  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers, 
t  Balcarras ;  Mary's  account  of  her    interview   with    Montgomery,  printed 
among  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers. 


Before  the  traitor  had  been  admitted  to  Mary's  presence,  he 
had  obtained  a  promise  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  depart  in 
safety.  The  promise  was  kept.  During  some  months,  he  lay 
hid  in  London,  and  contrived  to  carry  on  a  negotiation  with  the 
government.  He  offered  to  be  a  witness  against  his  accom- 
plices on  condition  of  having  a  good  place.  William  would 
bid  no  higher  than  a  pardon.  At  length  the  communications  were 
broken  off.  Montgomery  retired  for  a  time  to  France.  He 
soon  returned  to  London  and  passed  the  miserable  remnant  of 
his  life  in  forming  plots  which  came  to  nothing,  and  in  writing 
libels  which  are  distinguished  by  the  grace  and  vigour  of  their 
style  from  most  of  the  productions  of  the  Jacobite  press.* 

Annandale,  when  he  learned  that  his  two  accomplices  had 
turned  approvers,  retired  to  Bath,  and  pretended  to  drink  the 
waters.  Thence  he  was  soon  brought  up  to  London  by  a  war- 
rant. He  acknowledged  that  he  had  been  seduced  into  treason  : 
but  he  declared  that  he  had  only  said  Amen  to  the  plans  of 
others,  and  that  his  childlike  simplicity  had  been  imposed  on  by 
Montgomery,  that  worst,  that  falsest,  that  most  unquiet  of  hu- 
man beings.  The  noble  penitent  then  proceeded  to  make  atone- 
ment for  his  own  crime  by  criminating  other  people,  English 
and  Scotch,  Whig  and  Tory,  guiky  and  innocent.  Some  he 
accused  on  his  own  knowledge,  and  some  on  mere  hearsay. 
Among  those  whom  he  accused  on  his  own  knowledge  was  Ne- 
ville Payne,  who  had  not,  it  should  seem,  been  mentioned 
either  by  Ross  or  by  Montgomery.! 

Pa}'ne,  pursued  by  messengers  and  warrants,  was  so  ill  ad- 
vised as  to  take  refuge  in  Scotland.  Had  he  remained  in  Eng- 
land he  would  have  been  safe :  for,  though  the  moral  proofs  of 
his  guilt  were  complete,  there  was  not  such  legal  evidence  as 
would  have  satisfied  a  jury  that  he  had  committed  high  treason: 
he  could  not  be  subjected  to  torture  in  order  to  force  him  to 
furnish  evidence  against  himself ;  nor  could  he  be  long  confined 
without  being  brought  to  trial.  But  the  moment  that  he  passed 

*  Compare  Balearras  with  Biirnet,  ii,  62.    The  pamphlet  entitled  Great  Brit- 
ain's Just  Complaint  is  a  good  specimen  of  Montgomery's  manner, 
t  Balcarras  ;  Annandale's  Confession. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  87 

the  border  he  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  government  of  which  he 
was  the  deadly  foe.  The  Claim  of  Right  had  recognised  tor- 
ture as,  in  cases  like  his,  a  legitimate  mode  of  obtaining  informa- 
tion ;  and  no  Habeas  Corpus  Act  secured  him  against  a  long 
detention.  The  unhappy  man  was  arrested,  carried  to  Edinburgh 
and  brought  before  the  Privy  Council.  The  general  notion  was, 
that  he  was  a  knave  and  a  coward,  and  that  the  first  sight  of  the 
boots  and  thumbscrews  would  bring  out  all  the  guilty  secrets 
with  which  he  had  been  entrusted,  But  Payne  had  a  far 
braver  spirit  than  those  highborn  plotters  with  whom  it  was  his 
misfortune  to  have  been  connected.  Twice  he  was  subjected 
to  frightful  torments  ;  but  not  a  word  inculpating  himself  or 
any  other  person  could  be  wrung  out  of  him.  Some  councillors 
left  the  board  in  horror.  But  the  pious  Crawford  presided.  He 
was  not  much  troubled  with  the  weakness  of  compassion  where 
an  Amalekite  was  concerned,  and  forced  the  executioner  to 
hammer  in  wedge  after  wedge  between  the  knees  of  the  prisoner 
till  the  pain  was  as  great  as  the  human  frame  can  sustain  without 
dissolution.  Payne  was  then  carried  to  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh 
where  he  long  remained,  utterly  forgotten,  as  he  touchingly 
complained,  by  those  for  whose  sake  he  had  endured  more  than 
the  bitterness  of  death.  Yet  no  ingratitude  could  damp  the 
the  ardour  of  his  fanatical  loyalty  ;  and  he  continued,  year  after 
year,  in  his  cell,  to  plan  insurrections  and  invasions.* 

Before  Payne's  arrest  the  Estates  had  been  adjourned  after 
a  Session  as  important  as  any  that  had  ever  been  held  in  Scot- 
land. The  nation  generally  acquiesced  in  the  new  ecclesiastical 
constitution.  The  indifferent,  a  large  portion  of  every  society, 
were  glad  that  the  anarchy  was  over,  and  conformed  to  the 
Presbyterian  Church  as  they  had  conformed  to  the  Episcopal 
Church.  To  the  moderate  Presbyterians  the  settlement  which 
had  been  made  was  on  the  whole  satisfactory.  Most  of  the 
strict  Presbyterians  brought  themselves  to  accept  it  under  pro- 
test, as  a  large  instalment  of  what  was  due.  They  missed  in- 
deed what  they  considered  as  the  perfect  beauty  and  symmetry 

*  Burnet,  ii.  62  ;  Lockhart  to  Melville,  Aug.  30,  1690  ;  and  Crawford  to  Mel- 
vil.e.  Dec^l,  IBM,  in  the  Leveii  and  Melville  Papers  ;  Neville  Payne's  letter  of 
Dec.  3,  16'J2,  printed  in  1693. 


of  that  Church  which  had,  forty  years  before,  been  the  glory  of 
Scotland.  But,  though  the  second  temple  was  not  equal  to  the 
first,  the  chosen  people  might  well  rejoice  to  think  that  they 
were,  after  a  long  captivity  in  Babylon,  suffered  to  rebuild, 
though  imperfectly,  the  House  of  God  on  the  old  foundations  ; 
nor  could  it  misbecome  them  to  feel  for  the  latitudinarian  Wil- 
liam a  grateful  affection  such  as  the  restored  Jews  had  felt  for 
the  heathen  Cyrus. 

There  were  however  two  parties  which  regarded  the  settle- 
ment of  1690  with  implacable  detestation.  Those  Scotchmen 
who  were  Episcopalians  on  conviction  and  with  fervour  appear 
to  have  been  few  :  but  among  them  were  some  persons  superior, 
not  perhaps  in  natural  parts,  but  in  learning,  in  taste,  and  in  the 
art  of  composition,  to  the  theologians  of  the  sect  which  had 
now  become  dominant.  It  might  not  have  been  safe  for  the 
ejected  Curates  and  Professors  to  give  vent  in  their  own  coun- 
try to  the  anger  which  they  felt.  But  the  English  press  was 
open  to  them  ;  and  they  were  sure  of  the  approbation  of  a 
large  part  of  the  English  people.  During  several  years  they 
continued  to  torment  their  enemies  and  to  amuse  the  public  with 
a  succession  of  ingenious  and  spirited  pamphlets.  In  some  of 
these  works  the  hardships  suffered  by  the  rabbled  priests  of  the 
western  shires  are  set  forth  with  a  skill  which  irresistibly  moves 
pity  and  indignation.  In  others,  the  cruelty  with  which  the 
Covenanters  had  been  treated  during  the  reigns  of  the  last  two 
kings  of  the  House  of  Stuart  is  extenuated  by  every  artifice  of 
.  sophistry.  There  is  much  joking  on  the  bad  Latin  which  some 
Presbyterian  teachers  had  uttered  while  seated  in  academic 
chairs  lately  occupied  by  great  scholars.  Much  was  said  about 
the  ignorant  contempt  which  the  victorious  barbarians  professed 
for  science  and  literature.  They  were  accused  of  anathematis- 
ing the  modern  systems  of  natural  philosophy  as  damnable  her- 
esies, of  condemning  geometry  as  a  soul  destroying  pursuit,  of 
discouraging  even  the  study  of  those  tongues  in  which  the  sacred 
books  were  written.  Learning,  it  was  said,  would  soon  be  ex- 
tinct in  Scotland.  The  Universities,  under  their  new  rulers, 
were  languishing,  and  must  soon  perish.  The  booksellers  had 

WILLIAM    AXD    MART.  89 

been  half  ruined  :  they  found  that  the  whole  profit  of  their  busi- 
ness would  not  pay  the  rent  of  their  shops,  and  were  preparing 
to  emigrate  to  some  country  where  letters  were  held  in  esteem 
by  those  whose  office  was  to  instruct  the  public.  Among  the 
ministers  of  religion  no  purchaser  of  books  was  left.  The  Epis- 
copalian divine  was  glad  to  sell  for  a  morsel  of  bread  whatever 
part  of  his  library  had  not  been  torn  to  pieces  or  burned  by  the 
Christmas  mobs  ;  and  the  only  library  of  a  Presbyterian  divine 
consisted  of  an  explanation  of  the  Apocalypse  and  a  comment- 
ary on  the  Song  of  Songs.*  The  pulpit  oratory  of  the  trium- 
phant party  was  an  inexhaustible  subject  of  mirth.  One  little 
volume,  entitled  the  Scotch  Presbyterian  Eloquence  Displayed 
had  an  immense  success  in  the  South  among  both  High  Church- 
men and  scoffers,  and  it  is  not  yet  quite  forgotten.  It  was  indeed 
a  book  well  fitted  to  lie  on  the  hall  table  of  a  Squire  whose  re- 
ligion consisted  in  hating  extemporaneous  prayer  and  nasal  psal- 
mody. On  a  rainy  day,  when  it  was  impossible  to  hunt  or 
shoot,  neither  the  card  table  nor  the  backgammon  board  would 
have  been,  in  the  intervals  of  the  flagon  and  the  pasty,  so  agree- 
able a  resource.  Nowhere  else,  perhaps,  can  be  found,  in  so 
small  a  compass,  so  large  a  collection  of  ludicrous  quotations  and 
anecdotes.  Some  grave  men,  however,  who  bore  no  love  to  the 
Calvinistic  doctrine  or  discipline,  shook  their  heads  over  this 
lively  jest  book,  and  hinted  their  opinion  that  the  writer,  while 
holding  up  to  derision  the  absurd  rhetoric  by  which  coarse 
minded  and  ignorant  men  tried  to  illustrate  dark  questions  of 
theology  and  to  excite  devotional  feeling  among  the  populace, 
had  sometimes  forgotten  the  reverence  due  to  sacred  things. 
The  effect  which  tracts  of  this  sort  produced  on  the  public  mind 
of  England  could  not  be  fully  discerned  while  England  and  Scot- 
land were  independent  of  each  other,  but  manifested  itself,  very 
soon  after  the  union  of  the  kingdoms,  in  a  way  which  we  still 
have  reason,  and  which  our  posterity  will  probably  long  have 
reason,  to  lament. 

*  Historical  Relation  of  the  late  Presbyterian  General  Assembly,  1691  ;  The 
Presbyterian  Inquisition  as  it  was  lately  practised  against  the  Professors  of  the 
College  of  Edinburgh,  1691. 


The  extreme  Presbyterians  were  as  much  out  of  humour 
as  the  extreme  Prelatists,  and  were  as  little  inclined  as  the  ex- 
treme Prelatists,  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  William  and 
Mary.  Indeed,  though  the  Jacobite  nonjuror  and  the  Camero- 
nian  nonjuror  were  diametrically  opposed  to  each  other  in 
opinion,  though  they  regarded  each  other  with  mortal  aversion, 
though  neither  of  them  would  have  had  any  scruple  about  per- 
secuting the  other,  they  had  much  in  common.  They  were  per- 
haps the  two  most  remarkable  specimens  that  the  world  could 
show  of  perverse  absurdity.  Each  of  them  considered  his  dar- 
ling form  of  ecclesiastical  polity,  not  as  a  means,  but  as  an  end, 
as  the  one  thing  needful,  as  the  quintessence  of  the  Christian 
religion.  Each  of  them  childishly  fancied  that  he  had  found  a 
theory  of  civil  government  in  his  Bible.  Neither  shrank  from 
the  frightful  consequences  to  which  his  theory  led.  To  all  ob- 
jections both  had  one  answer, — Thus  saith  the  Lord.  Both 
agreed  in  boasting  that  the  arguments  which  to  atheistical  poli- 
ticians seemed  irrefragable  presented  no  difficulty  to  the  Saint. 
It  might  be  perfectly  true  that,  by  relaxing  the  rigour  of  his 
principles,  he  might  save  his  country  from  slavery,  anarchy, 
universal  ruin.  But  his  business  was  not  to  save  his  country, 
but  to  save  his  soul.  He  obeyed  the  commands  of  God,  and 
left  the  event  to  God.  One  of  the  two  fanatical  sects  held  that, 
to  the  end  of  time,  the  nation  would  be  bound  to  obey  the  heir 
of  the  Stuarts  :  the  other  held  that,  to  the  end  of  time,  the  na- 
tion would  be  bound  by  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant ;  and 
thus  both  agreed  in  regarding  the  new  Sovereigns  as  usurpers. 

The  Presbyterian  nonjurors  have  scarcely  been  heard  of 
out  of  Scotland  ;  and  perhaps  it  may  not  now  be  generally 
known,  even  in  Scotland,  that  they  still  continue  to  form  a  dis- 
tinct class.  They  maintained  that  their  country  was  "under  a 
precontract  to  the  Most  High,  and  could  never,  while  the  world 
lasted,  enter  into  any  engagement  inconsistent  with  that  pre- 
contract. An  Erastian,  a  latitudinarian,  a  man  who  knelt  to 
receive  the  bread  and  wine  from  the  hands  of  bishops,  and  who 
bore,  though  not  very  patiently,  to  hear  anthems  chaunted  by 
choristers  in  white  vestments,  could  not  be  King  of  a  covenanted 


kingdom.  William  had  moreover  forfeited  all  claim  to  the 
crown  by  committing  that  sin  for  which,  iu  the  old  time,  a  dy- 
nasty preternaturally  appointed  had  been  preternaturally  de- 
posed. He  had  connived  at  the  escape  of  his  father  in  law, 
that  idolater,  that  murderer,  that  mail  of  Belial,  who  ought  to 
have  been  hewn  in  pieces  before  the  Lord,  like  Agag.  Nay, 
the  crime  of  William  had  exceeded  that  of  Saul.  Saul  had 
spared  only  one  Amalekite,  and  had  smitten  the  rest.  What 
Amalekite  had  William  smitten  ?  The  pure  Church  had  been 
twenty-eight  years  under  persecution.  Her  children  had  been 
imprisoned,  transported,  branded,  shot,  hanged,  drowned,  tor- 
tured. And  yet  he  who  called  himself  her  deliverer  had  not 
suffered  her  to  see  her  desire  upon  her  enemies.*  The  bloody 
Claverhouse  had  been  graciously  received  at  St.  James's.  The 
bloody  Mackenzie  had  found  a  secure  and  luxurious  retreat  among 
the  malignants  of  Oxford.  The  younger  Dalrymple  who  had 
prosecuted  the  Saints,  the  elder  Dalrymple  who  had  sate  in 
judgment  on  the  Saints,  were  great  and  powerful.  It  was  said, 
by  careless  Gallios,  that  there  was  no  choice  but  between  Wil- 
liam and  James,  and  that  it  was  wisdom  to  choose  the  less  of  two 
evils.  Such  was  indeed  the  wisdom  of  this  world.  But  the  wisdom 
which  was  from  above  taught  us  that  of  two  things,  both  of 
which  were  evil  in  the  sight  of  God,  we  should  choose  neither. 
As  soon  as  James  was  restored  it  would  be  a  duty  to  disown  and 
withstand  him.  The  present  duty  was  to  disown  and  with- 
stand his  son  in  law.  Nothing  must  be  said,  nothing  must 
be  done,  that  could  be  construed  into  a  recognition  of  the  au- 
thority of  the  man  from  Holland.  The  godly  must  pay  no 

*  One  of  the  most  cnrious  of  the  many  curious  papers  written  by  the  Coven- 
anters of  that  generation  is  entitled,  "Nathaniel  or  the  Dying  Testimony  of  John 
Matlhieson  in  Closeburn."  Matthieson  did  not  die  till  1709.  hut  his  Testimony 
was  written  some  years  earlier,  when  he  was  in  expectation  of  death.  "  And. 
now,"  he  says,  "  I,  as  a  dying  man,  would  in  a  few  words  tell  you  that  are  to  live 
behind  me  my  thoughts  as  to  the  times.  When  I  saw,  or  rather  heard,  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Orange  being  set  up  as  they  were,  and  his  pardoning  all 
the  murderers  of  the  saints,  and  receiving  all  the  bloody  beasts,  soldiers,  and 
others,  all  these  officers  of  their  state  and  army,  and  all  the  bloody  counsellors, 
civil  and  ecclesiastic,  and  his  letting  slip  that  son  of  Belial,  his  father-in-law, 
who,  both  bv  all  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  ought  to  have  died,  I  knew  he  would 
do  110  good  to  the  cause  and  work  of  God-" 


duties  to  him,  must  hold  no  offices  under  him,  must  receive  no 
wages  from  him,  must  sign  no  instruments  in  which  he  was 
styled  King.  Anne  succeeded  William  ;  and  Anne  was  desi<nia- 
ted  by  those  who  called  themselves  the  Reformed  Presbytery, 
and  the  remnant  of  the  true  Church,  as  the  pretended  Queen, 
the  wicked  woman,  the  Jezebel.  George  the  first  succeeded 
Anne ;  and  George  the  First  was  the  pretended  King,  the  Ger- 
man Beast.*  George  the  Second  succeeded  George  the  First. 
George  the  Second  too  was  a  pretended  King ;  and  he  was  ac- 
cused of  having  outdone  the  wickedness  of  his  wicked  prede- 
cessors by  passing  a  law  in  defiance  of  that  divine  law  which 
ordains  that  no  witch  shall  be  suffered  to  live.f  George  the 
Third  succeeded  George  the  Second  ;  and  still  these  men  con- 
tinued, with  unabated  steadfastness,  though  in  language  less 
ferocious  than  before,  to  disclaim  all  allegiance  to  an  uncove- 
nanted  Sovereign.!  At  length  this  schismatical  body  was  sub- 
divided by  a  new  schism.  The  majority  of  the  Reformed  Pres- 
byterians, though  they  still  refused  to  swear  fealty  to  the  Sover- 
eign or  to  hold  office  under  him,  thought  themselves  justified  in 
praying  for  him,  in  paying  tribute  to  him,  and  in  accepting  his 
protection.  But  there  was  a  minority  which  would  hear  of  no 
compromise.  So  late  as  the  year  180G  a  few  persons  were  still 
bearing  their  public  testimony  against  the  sin  of  owning  an  Anti- 

*  See  the  Dying  Testimony  of  Mr.  Robert  Smith,  Student  of  Divinity,  who 
lived  in  Douglas  Town,  in  the  Shire  of  Clydesdale,  who  died  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  Sabbath  morning,  Dec.  13,  1724,  aged  "8  years  ;  and  the  Dying  Testimony 
of  William  Wilson,  sometime  Schoolmaster  of  Park  in  the  Parish  of  Douglas, 
aged  68,  who  died  May  7,  1757. 

t  See  the  Dying  Testimony  of  William  Wilson,  mentioned  in  the  last  note.  It 
ought  to  he  remarked  that,  on  the  subject  of  witchcraft,  the  Divines  of  the 
Associate  Presbytery  were  as  absurd  as  this  poor  crazy  Dominie.  See  their  Act, 
Declaration,  and  Testimony,  published  in  1773  by  Adam  Gib. 

t  In  the  year  1791,  Thomas  Henderson  of  Paisley  wrote,  in  defence  of  the 
Reformed  Presbytery,  against  a  writer  who  had  charged  them  with  "  disowning 
the  present  excellent  sovereign  as  the  lawful  Kfng  of  Great  Britain."  "  The 
Keformed  Presbytery  and  their  connections,"  says  Mr.  Henderson,  "  have  not 
been  much  accustomed  to  give  flattering  titles  to  princes." "  How- 
ever, they  entertain  no  resentment  against  the  person  of  the  present  occupant, 
nor  any  of  the  good  qualities  which  he  possesses.  They  sincerely  wish  that  he 
were  more  excellent  than  external  royalty  can  make  him,  that  he  were  adorned 
with  the  image  of  Christ,"  &c.,  &c.,  &c.  "  But  they  can  by  no  means  acknowl- 
edge him,  nor  any  of  the  episcopal  persuasion,  to  be  a  lawful  king  over  these 
covenanted  lands." 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  93 

Christian  government  by  paying  taxes,  by  taking  out  excise 
licenses,  or  by  labouring  on  public  works.*  The  number  of 
these  zealots  went  on  diminishing  till  at  length  they  were  so 
thinly  scattered  over  Scotland  that  they  were  nowhere  numer- 
ous enough  to  have  a  meeting  house,  and  were  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Nonhearers.  They,  however,  still  assembled  and 
prayed  in  private  dwellings,  and  still  persisted  in  considering 
themselves  as  the  chosen  generation,  the  royal  priesthood,  the 
holy  nation,  the  peculiar  people,  which,  amidst  the  common 
degeneracy,  alone  preserved  the  faith  of  a  better  age.  It  is  by 
no  means  improbable  that  this  superstition,  the  most  irrational 
and  the  most  unsocial  into  which  Protestant  Christianity  has 
ever  been  corrupted  by  human  prejudices  and  passions  may  still 
linger  in  a  few  obscure  farmhouses. 

The  King  was  but  half  satisfied  with  the  manner  in  which 
the  ecclesiastical  polity  of  Scotland  had  been  settled.  He 
thought  that  the  Episcopalians  had  been  hardly  used  ;  and  he 
apprehended  that  they  might  be  still  more  hardly  used  when  the 
new  system  was  fully  organised.  He  had  been  very  desirous 
that  the  Act  which  established  the  Presbyterian  Church  should 
be  accompanied  by  an  Act  allowing  persons  who  were  not 
members  of  that  Church  to  hold  their  own  religious  assemblies 
freely  ;  and  he  had  particularly  directed  Melville  to  look  to 

*  An  enthusiast,  named  George  Calderwood,  in  his  preface  to  a  Collection  of 
Dying  Testimonies,  published  in  1806,  accuses  the  Reformed  Presbytery  of  scan- 
dalous compliances.  "  As  for  the  Reformed  Presbytery,"  he  says,  "  though  they 
profess  to  own  the  martyrs'  testimony  in  hairs  and  hoofs,  yet  they  have  now 
adopted  so  many  new  distinctions,  and  given  up  their  old  ones,  that  they  have 
made  it  so  evident  that  it  is  neither  the  martyrs'  testimony  nor  yet  the  one  that 
that  Presbytery  adopted  at  first  that  they  are  now  maintaining.  When  the 
Reformed  Presbytery  was  in  its  infancy,  and  had  some  appearance  of  honesty 
and  faithfulness  among  them,  they  were  blamed  by  all  the  other  parties  for  using 
of  distinctions  that  no  man  could  justify,  i.  e.  they  would  not  admit  into  their 
communion  those  that  paid  the  land  tax  or  subscribed  tacks  to  do  so  ;  but  now 
they  can  admit  into  their  communions  both  rulers  and  members  who  voluntarily 
pay  all  taxes  and  subscribe  tacks."  .  .  .  .  '•  It  shall  be  only  referred  to  govern- 
ment's books,  since  the  commencement  of  the  French  war.  how  many  of  their 
own  members  have  accepted  of  places  of  trust,  to  be  at  government's  call,  S'Tch 
as  bearers  of  arms,  driving  of  cattle,  stopping  of  ways,  &c. ;  and  what  is  all  their 
license  for  trading  by  sea  or  land  but  a  serving  under  government  ?  "  The  doc- 
trines of  those  more  moderate  nonjurors  who  call  themselves  the  Reformed  Pres- 
byterian Church  have  been  recently  set  fotth  in  a  Prize  Catechism  by  the  Kcv- 
ereud  Thomas  Martin. 


this.*  But  some  popular  preachers  harangued  so  vehemently  at 
Edinburgh  against  liberty  of  conscience,  which  they  called  the 
mystery  of  iniquity,  that  Melville  did  not  venture  to  obey  his 
master's  instructions.  A  draught  of  a  Toleration  Act  was 
offered  to  the  Parliament  by  a  private  member,  but  was  coldly 
received  and  suffered  to  drop.f 

William,  however,  was  fully  determined  to  prevent  the 
dominant  sect  from  indulging  in  the  luxury  of  persecution  ;  and 
he  took  an  early  opportunity  of  announcing  his  determination. 
The  first  General  Assembly  of  the  newly  established  Church 
met  soon  after  his  return  from  Ireland.  It  was  necessary  that 
he  should  appoint  a  Commissioner  and  send  a  letter.  Some 
zealous  Presbyterians  hoped  that  Crawford  would  be  the  com- 
missioner ;  and  the  ministers  of  Edinburgh  drew  up  a  paper  in 
which  they  very  intelligibly  hinted  that  this  was  their  wish. 
"William,  however,  selected  Lord  Carmichael,  a  nobleman  dis- 
tinguished by  good  sense,  humanity,  and  moderation. $  The  royal 
letter  to  the  Assembly  was  eminently  wise  in  substance  and 
impressive  in  language.  "  We  expect,"  the  King  wrote,  "  that 
your  management  shall  be  such  that  we  may  have  no  reason  to 
repent  of  what  we  have  done.  We  never  could  be  of  the  mind 
that  violence  was  suited  to  the  advancing  of  true  religion  ;  nor 
do  we  intend  that  our  authority  shall  ever  be  a  tool  to  the  ir- 
regular passions  of  any  party.  Moderation  is  what  religion 
enjoins,  what  neighbouring  Churches  expect  from  you,  and  what 
we  recommend  to  you."  The  Sixty  and  their  associates  would 
probably  have  been  glad  to  reply  in  language  resembling  that 
which,  as  some  of  them  could  well  remember,  had  been  held  by 
the  clergy  to  Charles  the  Second  during  his  residence  nr Scot- 
laud.  Bnt  they  had  just  been  informed  that  there  was  in  Eng- 
land a  strong  feeling  in  favour  of  the  rabbled  curates,  aud  that 
it  would,  at  such  a  conjuncture,  be  madness  in  the  body  which 
represented  the  Presbyterian  Church  to  quarrel  with  the  King.§ 

*  The  King  to  Melville,  May  22,  1C!>0,  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers. 

t  Account  of  the  Establishment  of  Presbyterian  Government. 

$  Carmiehcel's  good  qualities  are  fully  admitted  by  the  Episcopalians.  See 
the  Historical  Relation  of  the  late  Presbyterian  General  Assembly  and  the  Pres- 
byterian Inquisition. 

§  See,  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers,  Melville's  Letters  written  from  Lon- 


The  Assembly  therefore  returned  a  grateful  and  respectful 
answer  to  the  royal  letter,  and  assured  His  Majesty  that  they 
had  suffered  too  much  from  oppression  ever  to  be  oppressors.* 

Meanwhile  the  troops  all  over  the  Continent  were  going  into 
winter  quarters.  The  campaign  had  everywhere  been  indecisive. 
The  victory  gained  by  Luxemburg  at  Fleurus  had  produced  no 
important  effect.  On  the  Upper  Rhine  great  armies  had  eyed 
each  other,  month  after  month,  without  exchanging  a  blow.  In 
Catalonia  a  few  small  forts  had  been  taken.  In  the  east  of 
Europe  the  Turks  had  been  successful  on  some  points,  the 
Christians  on  other  points ;  and  the  termination  of  the  contest 
seemed  to  be  as  remote  as  ever.  The  coalition  had  in  the  course 
of  the  year  lost  one  valuable  member,  and  gained  another.  The 
Duke  of  Lorraine,  the  ablest  captain  in  the  Imperial  service, 
was  no  more.  He  had  died,  as  he  had  lived,  an  exile  and  a 
wanderer,  and  had  bequeathed  to  his  children  nothing  but 
his  name  and  his  rights.  It  was  popularly  said  that  the  con- 
federacy could  better  have  spared  thirty  thousand  soldiers  than 
such  a  general.  But  scarcely  had  the  allied  Courts  gone  into 
mourning  for  him  when  they  were  consoled  by  learning  that 
another  prince  superior  to  him  in  power,  and  not  inferior  to  him 
in  capacity  or  courage,  had  joined  the  league  against  France. 

This  was  Victor  Amadeus.  Duke  of  Savoy.  He  was  a  young 
man :  but  he  was  already  versed  in  those  arts  for  which  the 
statesmen  of  Italy  had,  ever  since  the  thirteenth  century,  been 
celebrated,  those  arts  by  which  Castruccio  Castracani  and  Francis 
Sforza  rose  to  greatness,  and  which  Machiavel  reduced  to  a  sys- 
tem. No  sovereign  in  modern  Europe  has,  with  so  small  a 
principality,  exercised  so  great  an  influence  during  so  long  a 
period.  He  had  for  a  time  submitted,  with  a  show  of  cheerful- 
ness, but  with  secret  reluctance  and  resentment,  to  the  French 

don  at  tliis  time  time  to  Crawford,  Rule,  Williamson,  and  other  vehement  Pres- 
byterians. He  says  :  "  The  clergy  that  were  putt  out,  and  come  up,  make  a  great 

clarnouf  :  many  here  encourage  and  rejoyce  at  it There  is  nothing  now  but 

the  greatest  sobrietie  and  moderation  imaginable  to  be  used,  unless  we  will  hazard 
the  overturning  of  all :  and  take  this  as  earnest,  and  not  as  imaginations  and 
fears  only." 

*  Principal  Acts  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Church  of  Scotland  held  in, 
and  begun  at  Edingburgh  the  16th  day  of  October,  1C90 ;  Edinburgh,  1691. 


ascendency.  When  the  war  broke  out,  lie  professed  neutrality, 
but  entered  into  private  negotiations  with  the  House  of  Austria. 
He  would  probably  have  continued  to  dissemble  till  he  found 
some  opportunity  of  striking  an  unexpected  blow,  had  not  his 
crafty  schemes  been  disconcerted  by  the  decision  and  vigour  of 
Lewis.  A  French  army  commanded  by  Catinat,  an  officer 
of  great  skill  and  valour,  marched  into  Piedmont.  The  Duke 
was  informed  that  his  conduct  had  excited  suspicions  which  he 
could  remove  only  by  admitting  foreign  garrisons  into  Turin  and 
Vercelli.  He  found  that  he  must  be  either  the  slave  or  the  open 
enemy  of  his  powerful  and  imperious  neighbour.  His  choice 
was  soon  made  ;  and  a  war  began  which,  during  seven  years,, 
found  employment  for  some  of  the  best  generals  and  best  troops 
of  Lewis.  An  Envoy  Extraordinary  from  Savoy  went  to  the 
Hague,  proceeded  thence  to  London,  presented  his  credentials  m 
the  Banqueting  House,  and  addressed  to  William  a  speech  which 
was  speedily  translated. into  many  languages  and  read  in  every 
part  of  Europe.  The  orator  congratulated  the  King  on  the  suc- 
cess of  that  great  enterprise  which  had  restored  England  to  her 
ancient  place  among  the  nations,  and  had  broken  the  chains  of 
Europe.  "  That  my  master,"  he  said,  "  can  now  at  length 
venture  to  express  feelings  which  have  been  long  concealed  in 
the  recesses  of  his  heart  is  part  of  the  debt  which  he  owes 
to  Your  Majesty.  You  have  inspired  him  with  the  hope  of  free- 
dom after  so  many  years  of  bondage."  * 

It  had  been  determined  that,  during  the  approaching  winter, 
a  Congress  of  all  the  powers  hostile  to  France  should  be  held 
at  the  Hague.  William  was  impatient  to  proceed  thither.  But 
it  was  necessary  that  he  should  first  hold  a  Session  of  Parlia- 
ment. Early  in  October  the  Houses  reassembled  at  Westminster. 
The  members  had  generally  come  up  in  good  humour.  Those 
Tories  whom  it  was  possible  to  conciliate  had  been  conciliated 
by  the  Act  of  Grace,  and  by  the  large  share  which  they  had  ob- 
tained of  the  favours  of  the  Crown.  Those  Whigs  who  were 
capable  of  learning  had  learned  much  from  the  lesson  which 
William  had  given  them,  and  had  ceased  to  expect  that  he 
•  Monthly  Mercuries ;  London  Gazettes  of  November  3,  and  C,  1G90. 


would  descend  from  the  rank  of  a  King  to  that  of  a  party 
leader.  Both  Whigs  and  Tories  had,  with  few  exceptions,  been 
alarmed  by  the  prospect  of  a  French  invasion,  and  cheered  by 
the  news  of  the  victory  of  the  Boyne.  The  Sovereign  who  had 
shed  his  blood  for  their  nation  and  their  religion  stood  at  this 
moment  higher  in  public  estimation  than  at  any  time  since  his 
accession.  His  speech  from  the  throne  called  forth  the  loud 
acclamations  of  Lords  and  Commons.*  Thanks  were  unani- 
mously voted  by  both  Houses  to  the  King  for  his  achievements 
in  Ireland,  and  to  the  Queen  for  the  prudence  with  which  she 
had,  during  his  absence,  governed  England.f  Thus  commenced 
a  Session  distinguished  among  the  Sessions  of  that  reign  by 
liarmony  and  tranquillity.  No  report  of  the  debates  has  been 
preserved,  unless  a  long  forgotten  lampoon,  in  which  some  of 
the  speeches  made  on  the  first  day  are  burlesqued  in  doggrel 
rhymes,  may  be  called  a  report. $  The  time  of  the  Commons 
appears  to  have  been  chiefly  occupied  in  discussing  questions 
arising  out  of  the  elections  of  the  preceding  spring.  The  sup- 
plies necessary  for  the  war,  though  large,  were  granted  with  alac- 
rity. The  number  of  regular  troops  for  the  next  year  was  fixed 
at  seventy  thousand,  of  whom  twelve  thousand  were  to  be  horse 
or  dragoons.  The  charge  of  this  army,  the  greatest  that  Eng- 
land had  ever  maintained,  amounted  to  about  two  million  three 
hundred  thousand  pounds  ;  the  charge  of  the  navy  to  about 
eighteen  hundred  thousand  pounds.  The  charge  of  the  ordnance 
was  included  in  these  sums,  and  was  roughly  estimated  at  one- 
eighth  of  the  naval  and  one-fifth  of  the  military  expenditure.  § 
The  whole  of  the  extraordinary  aid  granted  to  the  King  ex- 
ceeded four  millions. 

The  Commons  justly  thought  that  the  extraordinary  liber- 
ality with  which  they  had  provided  for  the  public  service  en- 
titled them  to  demand  extraordinary  securities  against  waste 

*  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  Oct  3-13, 1690. 

t  Lords'  Journals,  Oct.  6,  1690;  Commons'  Journals,  October  8. 

*  I  am  not  aware  that  this  lampoon  has  ever  been  printed.    I  have  seen  it 
only  in  two  contemporary  manuscripts.  It  is  entitled  The  Opening  of  the  Session, 

§  Commons'  Journals,  Oct.  9, 10, 13, 14, 1690. 

VOL.  IV.— 7 


and  peculation.  A  bill  was  brought  in  empowering  nine  Com- 
missioners to  examine  and  state  the  public  accounts.  The  nine 
were  named  in  the  bill,  and  were  all  members  of  the  Lower 
House.  The  Lords  agreed  to  the  bill  without  amendments  : 
and  the  King  gave  his  assent.* 

The  debates  on  the  Ways  and  Means  occupied  a  considerable 
part  of  the  Session.  It  was  resolved  that  sixteen  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  pounds  should  be  raised  by  a  direct  monthly 
assessment  on  land.  The  excise  duties  on  ale  and  beer  were 
doubled  ;  and  the  import  duties  on  raw  silk,  linen,  timber, 
glass,  and  other  articles,  were  increased.!  Thus  far  there  was 
little  difference  of  opinion.  But  soon  the  smooth  course  of 
business  was  disturbed  by  a  proposition  which  was  much  more 
popular  than  just  or  humane.  Taxes  of  unprecedented  severity 
had  been  imposed ;  and  yet  it  might  well  be  doubted  whether 
these  taxes  would  be  sufficient.  Why,  it  was  asked,  should 
not  the  cost  of  the  Irish  war  be  borne  by  the  Irish  insurgents  ? 
How  those  insurgents  had  acted  in  their  mock  Parliament  all 
the  world  knew  ;  and  nothing  could  be  more  reasonable  than 
to  mete  to  them  from  their  own  measure.  They  ought  to  be 
treated  as  they  had  treated  the  Saxon  colony.  Every  acre 
which  the  Act  of  Settlement  had  left  them  ought  to  be  seized 
by  the  state  for  the  purpose  of  defraying  that  expense  which 
their  turbulence  and  perverseness  had  made  necessary.  It  is 
not  strange  that  a  plan,  which  at  once  gratified  national  ani- 
mosity, and  held  out  the  hope  of  pecuniary  relief,  should  have 
been  welcomed  with  eager  delight.  A  bill  was  brought  in  which 
bore  but  too  much  resemblance  to  some  of  the  laws  passed  by 
the  Jacobite  legislators  of  Dublin.  By  this  bill  it  was  provided 
that  the  property  of  every  person  who  had  been  in  rebellion 
against  the  King  and  Queen  since  the  day  on  which  they  were 
proclaimed  should  be  confiscated,  and  that  the  proceeds  should 
be  applied  to  the  support  of  the  war.  An  exception  was  made 
in  favour  of  such  Protestants  as  had  merely  submitted  to  supe- 

*  Commons'  Journals,  of  December,  1690,  particularly  of  Dec.  20 ;  Stat.  2  W. 
&  M.  sess.  2,  c.  11. 

t  Stat.  2  W.  &  M.  8688.  2,  c.  1,  3,  4, 


rior  force  :  but  to  Papists  no  indulgence  was  shown.  The  royal 
prerogative  of  clemency  was  limited.  The  King  might  indeed, 
if  such  were  his  pleasure,  spare  the  lives  of  his  vanquished 
enemies :  but  he  was  not  to  be  permitted  to  save  any  part  of 
their  estates  from  the  general  doom.  He  was  not  to  have  it  in 
his  power  to  grant  a  capitulation  which  should  secure  to  Irish 
Roman  Catholics  the  enjoyment  of  their  hereditary  lands.  Nay, 
he  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  keep  faith  with  persons  whom  he 
had  already  received  to*mercy,  who  had  kissed  his  hand,  and 
had  heard  from  his  lips  the  promise  of  protection.  An  attempt 
was  made  to  insert  a  proviso  in  favour  of  Lord  Dover.  Dover, 
who,  with  all  his  faults,  was  not  without  some  English  feelings, 
had,  by  defending  the  interests  of  his  native  country  at  Dublin, 
made  himself  odious  to  both  the  Irish  and  the  French.  After 
the  battle  of  the  Boyne  his  situation  was  deplorable.  Neither 
at  Limerick  nor  at  Saint  Germains  could  he  hope  to  be  wel- 
comed. In  his  despair,  he  threw  himself  at  William's  feet, 
promised  to  live  peaceably,  and  was  graciously  assured  that  he 
had  nothing  to  fear.  Though  the  royal  word  seemed  to  be 
pledged  to  this  unfortunate  man,  the  Commons  resolved,  by  a 
hundred  and  nineteen  votes  to  a  hundred  and  twelve,  that  his 
property  should  not  be  exempted  from  the  general  confiscation. 
The  bill  went  up  to  the  Peers  :  but  the  Peers  were  not  in- 
clined to  pass  it  without  considerable  amendments ;  and  such 
amendments  there  was  not  time  to  make.  Numerous  heirs  at 
law,  reversioners,  and  creditors  implored  the  Upper  House  to 
introduce  such  provisoes  as  might  secure  the  innocent  against 
all  danger  of  being  involved  in  the  punishment  of  the  guilty. 
Some  petitioners  asked  to  be  heard  by  counsel.  The  King  had 
made  all  his  arrangements  for  a  voyage  to  the  Hague  ;  and  the 
day  beyond  which  he  could  not  postpone  his  departure  drew 
near.  The  bill  was  therefore,  happily  for  the  honour  of  Eng- 
lish legislation,  consigned  to  that  dark  repository  in  which  the 
abortive  statutes  of  many  generations  sleep  a  sleep  rarely  dis- 
turbed by  the  historian  or  the  antiquary.* 

*  Burnet,  ii.  67.    See  the  Journals  of  both  Houses,  particularly  the  romtnons* 
Jourua.s  of  ;iie  Wth  wf  December  uud  the  Lords'  Journals,  of  ttie  aoUi  of  Pecew 


Another  question,  which  slightly,  and  but  slightly,  discom- 
posed the  tranquillity  of  this  short  session,  arose  out  of  the 
disastrous  and  disgraceful  battle  of  Beachy  Head.  Torrington 
had,  immediately  after  that  battle,  been  sent  to  the  Tower,  and 
had  ever  since  remained  there.  A  technical  difficulty  had  arisen 
about  the  mode  of  bringing  him  to  trial.  There  was  no  Lord 
High  Admiral :  and  whether  the  Commissioners  of  the  Ad- 
miralty were  competent  to  execute  martial  law  was  a  point 
which  to  some  jurists  appeared  not  perfectly  clear.  The  ma- 
jority of  the  Judges  held  that  the  Commissioners  were  compe- 
tent: but,  for  the  purpose  of  removing  all  doubt,  a  bill  was 
brought  into  the  Upper  House  ;  and  to  this  bill  several  Lords 
offered  an  opposition  which  seems  to  have  been  most  unreason- 
able. The  proposed  law,  they  said,  was  a  retrospective  penal 
law,  and  therefore  objectionable.  If  they  used  this  argument 
in  good  faith,  they  were  ignorant  of  the  very  rudiments  of  the 
science  of  legislation.  To  make  a  law  for  punishing  that  which, 
at  the  time  when  it  was  done,  was  not  punishable,  is  contrary 
to  all  sound  principle.  But  a  law  which  merely  alters  the 
criminal  procedure  may  with  perfect  propriety  be  made  appli- 
cable to  past  as  well  as  to  future  offences.  It  would  have  been 
the  grossest  injustice  to  give  a  retrospective  operation  to  the 
law  which  made  slavetrading  felony.  But  there  was  not  the 
smallest  injustice  in  enacting  that  the  Central  Criminal  Court 
should  try  felonies  committed  long  before  that  Court  was  in 
being.  In  Torringtou's  case  the  substantive  law  continued  to 
be  what  it  had  always  been. 

The  definition  of  the  crime,  the  amount  of  the  penalty,  re- 
mained unaltered.  The  only  change  was  in  the  form  of  pro- 
cedure ;  and  that  change  the  legislature  was  perfectly  justified 
in  making  retrospectively.  It  is  indeed  hardly  possible  to  be- 
lieve that  some  of  those  who  opposed  the  bill  were  duped  by 
the  fallacy  of  which  they  condescended  to  make  use.  The 
truth  probably  is  that  the  feeling  of  caste  was  strong  among  the 
Lords.  That  one  of  themselves  should  be  tried  for  his  life  by 

ber  and  the  1st  of  January.    The  bill  itself  will  be  found  in  the  archives  of  the 
Hcuse  of  Lords. 


a  court  composed  of  plebeians  seemed  to  them  a  degradation  of 
their  whole  order.  If  their  noble  brother  had  offended,  articles 
of  impeachment  ought  to  be  exhibited  against  him  :  Westmin- 
ster Hall  ought  to  be  fitted  up :  his  peers  ought  to  meet  in  their 
robes,  and  to  give  in  their  verdict  on  their  honour :  a  Lord 
High  Steward  ought  to  pronounce  the  sentence,  and  to  break 
the  staff.  There  was  an  end  of  privilege  if  an  Earl  was  to  be 
doomed  to  death  by  tarpaulins  seated  round  a  table  in  the  cabin 
of  a  ship.  These  feelings  had  so  much  influence  that  the  bill 
passed  the  Upper  House  by  a  majority  of  only  two.*  In  the 
Lower  House,  where  the  dignities  and  immunities  of  the  nobility 
were,  regarded  with  no  friendly  feeling,  there  was  little  differ- 
ence of  opinion.  Torrington  requested  to  be  heard  at  the  bar, 
and  spoke  there  at  great  length,  but  weakly  and  confusedly.  He 
boasted  of  his  services,  of  his  sacrifices,  and  of  his  wounds.  He 
abused  the  Dutch,  the  Board  of  Admiralty,  and  the  Secretary 
of  State.  The  bill,  however,  went  through  all  its  stages  with- 
out a  division. f 

Early  in  December  Torrington  was  sent  under  a  guard 
down  the  river  to  Sheerness.  There  the  Court  Martial  met  on 
board  of  a  frigate  named  the  Kent.  The  investigation  lasted 
three  days;  and  during  those  days  the  ferment  was  great  in 
London.  Nothing  was  heard  of  on  the  exchange,  in  the  coffee- 
houses, nay  even  at  the  church  doors,  but  Torrington.  Parties 
ran  high :  wagers  to  an  immense  amount  were  depending : 
rumours  were  hourly  arriving  by  land  and  water ;  and  every 
rumour  was  exaggerated  and  distorted  by  the  way.  From  the 
day  on  which  the  news  of  the  ignominious  battle  arrived,  down 
to  the  very  eve  of  the  trial,  public  opinion  had  been  very  un- 
favourable to  the  prisoner.  His  name,  we  are  told  by  contem- 
porary pamphleteers,  was  hardly  ever  mentioned  without  a  curse. 
But,  when  the  crisis  of  his  fate  drew  nigh,  there  was,  as  in  our 
country  there  often  is,  a  reaction.  All  his  merits,  his  courage, 

*  Lords'  Journals,  Oct.  30,  1690.  The  numbers  are  never  given  in  the  Lords' 
Journals.  That  the  majority  was  only  two  is  asserted  by  Ralph,  who  had,  I  sup- 
pose, some  authority  which  I  have  not  been  able  to  find. 

t  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  Nov.  14-24, 1690.  The  Earl  of  Tcningtoa's 
speech  to  the  House  of  Commons,  1710. 


his  good  nature,  his  firm  adherence  to  the  Protestant  religion  in 
the  evil  times,  were  remembered.  It  was  impossible  to  deny 
that  he  was  sunk  in  sloth  and  luxury,  that  he  neglected  the  most 
important  business  for  his  pleasures,  and  that  he  could  not  say 
No  to  a  boon  companion  or  to  a  mistress :  but  for  these  faults 
excuses  and  soft  names  were  found.  His  friends  used  without 
scruple  all  the  arts  which  could  raise  a  national  feeling  in  his 
favour ;  and  these  arts  were  powerfully  assisted  by  the  intelli- 
gence that  the  hatred  which  was  felt  towards  him  in  Holland 
had  vented  itself  in  indignities  to  some  of  his  countrymen.  The 
cry  was  that  a  bold,  jolly,  freehanded  English  gentleman,  of 
whom  the  worst  that  could  be  said  was  that  he  liked  wine  and 
women,  was  .to  be  shot  in  order  to  gratify  the  spite  of  the  Dutch. 
What  passed  at  the  trial  tended  to  confirm  the  populace  in 
this  notion.  Most  of  the  witnesses  against  the  prisoner  were 
Dutch  officers.  The  Dutch  rear  admiral,  who  took  on  himself 
the  part  of  prosecutor,  forgot  himself  so  far  as  to  accuse  the 
judges  of  partiality.  When  at  length,  on  the  evening  of  the 
third  day,  Torrington  was  pronounced  not  guilty,  many  who  had 
recently  clamoured  for  his  blood  seemed  to  be  well  pleased  with 
his  acquittal.  He  returned  to  London  free,  and  with  his  sword 
by  his  side.  As  his  yacht  went  up  the  Thames,  every  ship 
which  he  passed  saluted  him.  He  took  his  seat  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  and  even  ventured  to  present  himself  at  court.  But 
most  of  the  peers  looked  coldly  on  him  :  William  would  not  see 
him,  and  ordered  him  to  be  dismissed  from  the  service.* 

There  was  another  subject  about  which  no  vote  was  passed 
by  either  of  the  Houses,  but  about  which  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  some  acrimonious  discussion  took  place  in  both. 
The  Whigs,  though  much  less  violent  than  in  the  preceding  year, 
could  not  patiently  see  Caermarthen.  as  nearly  prime  minister 

*  Bumet,  ii.  67,  68  ;  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  ^°~y  Dec.  9-19,  12-22 
16-26,  1690;  An  impartial  Account  of  some  remarkable  Passages  in  the  Life  of 
Arthur  Earl  of  Torrington,  together  with  some  modest  Remarks  on  the  Trial  and 
Acquitment,  1691 ;  Reasons  for  the  Trial  of  the  Earl  of  Torrington  by  Impeach- 
ment, 1690 ;  The  Parable  of  the  Bearbaiting,  1690 ;  The  Earl  of  Torrington's 
Speech  to  the  House  of  Commons,  1710.  That  Torrington  was  coldly  received  by 
the  peers  I  learned  from  an  Article  in  the  Noticias  Ordinarias  of  February  6, 
16^1,  Madrid. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  103 

as  any  English  subject  could  be  under  a  prince  of  William's 
character.  Though  no  man  had  taken  a  more  prominent  part 
in  the  Revolution  than  the  Lord  President,  though  no  man  had 
more  to  fear  from  a  counterrevolution,  his  old  enemies  would 
not  believe  that  he  had  from  his  heart  renounced  those  arbitrary 
doctrines  for  which  he  had  once  been  zealous,  or  that  he  could 
bear  true  allegiance  to  a  government  sprung  from  resistance. 
Through  the  last  six  months  of  1690  he  was  mercilessly  lam- 
pooned. Sometimes  he  was  King  Thomas,  and  sometimes  Tom 
the  Tyrant.*  William  was  adjured  not  to  go  to  the  Continent 
leaving  his  worst  enemy  close  to  the  ear  of  the  Queen. 
Halifax,  who  had,  in  the  preceding  year,  been  ungenerously  and 
ungratefully  persecuted  by  the  Whigs,  was  now  mentioned  by 
them  with  respect  and  regret :  for  he  was  the  enemy  of  their 
enemy-f  The  face,  the  figure,  the  bodily  infirmities  of  Caer- 
marthen  were  ridiculed.?:  Those  dealings  with  the  French 
Court  in  which,  twelve  years  before,  he  had,  rather  by  his  mis- 
fortune than  by  his  fault,  been  implicated,  were  represented  in 
the  most  odious  colours.  He  was  reproached  with  his  impeach- 
ment and  his  imprisonment.  Ouce,  it  was  said,  he  had  escaped  : 
but  vengeance  might  still  overtake  him  ;  and  London  might  en- 
joy the  long  deferred  pleasure  of  seeing  the  old  traitor  flung  off 
the  ladder  in  the  blue  riband  which  he  disgraced.  All  the  mem- 
bers of  his  family,  wife,  son,  daughters,  were  assailed  with  sav- 

*  In  one  "Whig  lampoon  of  this  year  are  these  lines  : 

"David,  we  thought,  sncceeded  SauY, 
When  William  rose  on  James's  fall ; 
But  BOW  King  Thomas  governs  ail." 

In  another  are  the  lines: 

"  When  Charles  did  seem  to  fill  the  throne. 
This  tyrant  Tom  made  England  groan." 
A  third  says: 

"  Yorkshire  Torn  wan  raised  to  honour. 
For  what  cause  no  creature  knew ; 
He  was  false  to  th«  royal  donor. 

And  will  be  the  same  to  you." 

f  A  \Vhig  poet  compares  the  two  Marquesses,  as  they  were  often  called,  and 
gives  George  the  preference  over  Thomas: 

"  If  a  Marquess  needs  must  steer  us. 

Take  a  better  in  his  stead. 
Who  will  in  yonr  absence  cheer  iw, 

And  has  far  a  wiser  head." 
"  A  thin,  ill-natured  ghost  that  haunts  the  King." 


age  invective  and  contemptuous  sarcasm.*  All  who  were  sup- 
posed to  be  closely  connected  with  him  by  political  ties  came  in  for 
a  portion  of  this  abuse  ;  and  none  had  so  large  a  portion  as  Low- 
ther.  The  feeling  indicated  by  these  satires  was  strong  among  the 
Whigs  in  Parliament.  Several  of  them  deliberated  on  a  plan 
of  attack,  and  were  in  hopes  that  they  should  be  able  to  raise 
such  a  storm  as  would  make  it  imposs'  ^  for  Caermarthen  to 
remain  at  the  head  of  affairs.  It  should  seem  that,  at  this  time, 
his  influence  in  the  royal  closet  was  not  quite  what  it  had  been. 
Godolphin,  whom  he  did  not  love,  and  could  not  control,  but 
whose  financial  skill  had  been  greatly  missed  during  the  summer, 
was  brouglit  back  to  the  Treasury,  and  made  First  Commissioner. 
Lowther,  who  was  the  Lord  President's  own  man,  still  sate  at 
the  board,  but  no  longer  presided  there.  It  is  true  that  there 
was  not  then  such  a  difference  as  there  now  is  between  the  First 
Loi'd  and  his  colleagues.  Still  the  change  was  important  and 
significant.  Marlborough,  whom  Caermarthen  disliked,  was,  in 
military  affairs,  not  less  trusted  than  Godolphin  in  financial  af- 
fairs. The  seals  which  Shrewsbury  had  resigned  in  the  summer 
had  ever  since  been  lying  in  William's  secret  drawer.  The  Lord 
President  probably  expected  that  he  should  be  consulted  before 
they  were  given  away  ;  but  he  was  disappointed.  Sidney  was 
sent  for  from  Ireland  :  and  the  seals  were  delivered  to  him.  The 
first  intimation  which  the  Lord  President  received  of  this  im- 
portant appointment  was  not  made  in  a  manner  likely  to  soothe 
his  feelings.  "  Did  you  meet  the  new  Secretary  of  State  going 
out?"  said  William.  "  No,  Sir,"  answered  the  Lord  President ; 
"  I  met  nobody  but  my  Lord  Sidney."  "  He  is  the  new  Secre-v 
tary,"  said  William.  "  He  will  do  till  I  find  a  fit  man  ;  and  he  will 
be  quite  willing  to  resign  as  soon  as  I  find  a  fit  man.  Any  other 
person  that  I  could  put  in  would  think  himself  ill  used  if  I  were 
to  put  him  out."  If  William  had  said  all  that  was  in  his  mind, 
he  would  probably  have  added  that  Sidney,  though  not  a  great 
orator  or  statesman,  was  one  of  the  very  few  English  politicians 

*  "  Let  him  with  his  blue  riband  be 
Tied  clo;-i  up  to  the  gallows  tree; 
For  my  lady  a  cart  ;  and  I'd  contrive  it, 
Her  dancing  son  and  heir  should  djive  it" 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  105 

who  could  be  as  entirely  trusted  as  Bentinck  or  Zulestein.  Caer- 
marthen  listened  with  a  bitter  smile.  It  was  new,  he  afterwards 
said,  to  see  a  nobleman  placed  in  the  Secretary's  office,  as  a 
footman  was  placed  in  a  box  at  the  theatre,  merely  in  order  to 
keep  a  seat  till  his  betters  came.*  But  this  jest  was  a  cover  for 
serious  mortification  and  alarm.  The  situation  of  the  prime  min- 
ister was  unpleasant  and  even  perilous  ;  and  the  duration  of  his 
power  would  probably  have  been  short,  had  not  fortune,  just  at 
this  moment,  enabled  him  to  confound  his  adversaries  by  render- 
ing a  great  service  to  the  state. f 

The  Jacobites  had  seemed  in  August  to  be  completely 
crushed.  The  victory  of  the  Boyne,  and  the  irresistible  explo- 
sion of  patriotic  feeling  produced  by  the  appearance  of  Tour- 
ville's  fleet  on  the  coast  of  Devonshire,  had  cowed  the  boldest 
champions  of  hereditary  right.  Most  of  the  chief  plotters  had 
passed  some  weeks  in  confinement  or  in  concealment.  But, 
widely  as  the  ramifications  of  the  conspiracy  had  extended,  only 
one  traitor  had  suffered  the  punishment  of  his  crime.  This  was 
a  man  named  Godfrey  Cross,  who  kept  an  inn  on  the  beach  near 
Rye,  and  who,  when  the  French  fleet  was  on  the  coast  of  Sus- 
sex, had  given  information  to  Tourville.  When  it  appeared 
that  this  solitary  example  was  thought  sufficient,  when  the  dan- 
ger of  invasion  was  over,  when  the  popular  enthusiasm  excited 
by  that  danger  had  subsided,  when  the  lenity  of  the  government 
had  permitted  some  conspirators  to  leave  their  prisons  and  had 
encouraged  others  to  venture  out  of  their  hidingplaces,  the  fac- 
tion which  had  been  prostrated  and  stunned  began  to  give  signs 
of  returning  animation.  The  old  traitors  again  mustered  at  the 
old  haunts,  exchanged  significant  looks  and  eager  whispers,  and 
drew  from  their  pockets  libels  on  the  Court  of  Kensington,  and 
letters  in  milk  and  lemon  juice  from  the  Court  of  Saint  Ger- 
mains.  Preston,  Dartmouth,  Clarendon,  Penn,  were  among  the 
most  busy.  With  them  was  leagued  the  nonjuriag  Bishop  of 

*  See  Lord  Dartmouth's  Note  on  Burnet,  ii.  5. 

t  Aa  to  the  designs  of  the  Whigs  against  Caermarthen,  see  Burnet,  ii.  68,  69, 
and  a  very  significant  protest  in  the  Lords'  Journals,  October  30,  1690.  As  to  the 
relations  between  Caermarthen  and  Qodophlu,  see  liodolphiii's  letter  to  'William 
dated  Marck  20, 1CU1,  in  Dalryiuple. 


Ely,  who  was  still  permitted  by  the  government  to  reside  in  the 
palace,  now  no  longer  his  own,  and  who  had  but  a  short  time  be- 
fore called  heaven  to  witness  that  he  detested  the  thought  of  in- 
viting foreigners  to  invade  England.  One  good  opportunity  had 
been  lost:  but  another  was  at  hand,  and  must  not  be  suffered  to 
escape.  The  ursurper  would  soon  be  again  out  of  England.  The 
administration  would  soon  be  again  confided  to  a  weak  woman 
and  a  divided  council.  The  year  which  was  closing  had  certainly 
been  unlucky  ;  but  that  which  was  about  to  commence  might  be 
more  auspicious. 

In  December  a  meeting  of  the  leading  Jacobites  was  held.* 
The  sense  of  the  assembly,  which  consisted  exclusively  of  Pro- 
testants, was  that  something  ought  to  be  attempted,  but  that  the 
difficulties  were  great.  None  ventured  to  recommend  that  James 
should  come  over  unaccompanied  by  regular  troops.  Yet  all, 
taught  by  the  experience  of  the  preceding  summer,  dreaded  the 
effect  which  might  be  produced  by  the  sight  of  French  uniforms 
and  standards  on  English  ground.  A  paper  was  drawn  up  which 
would,  it  was  hoped,  convince  both  James  and  Lewis  that  a 
restoration  could  not  be  effected  without  the  cordial  concurrence 
of  the  nation.  France, — such  was  the  substance  of  this  remark- 
able document, — might  possibly  make  the  island  a  heap  of  ruins, 
but  never  a  subject  province.  It  was  hardly  possible  for  any 
person,  who  had  not  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  temper 
of  the  public  mind,  to  imagine  the  savage  and  dogged  determina- 
tion with  which  men  of  all  classes,  sects,  and  factions,  were 
prepared  to  resist  any  foreign  potentate  who  should  attempt  to 
conquer  the  kingdom  by  force  of  arms.  Nor  could  England  be 
governed  as  a  Roman  Catholic  country.  There  were  five  mil- 
lions of  Protestants  in  the  realm  ;  there  were  not  a  hundred 
thousand  Papists  :  that  such  a  minority  should  keep  down  such 
a  majority  was  physically  impossible  ;  and  to  physical  impossi- 
bility all  other  considerations  must  give  way.  James  would 

*  My  account  of  this  conspiracy  is  chiefly  taken  from  the  evidence,  oral  and 
documentary,  which  was  produced  on  the  trial  of  the  conspirators.  See  also  Bur- 
net,  ii.  09,  70,  the  Appendix  to  Dalrymple's  Memoirs,  Part  II.  Book  vi.  and  the 
Life  of  James,  ii.441.  Narcissus  Lutrell  remarks  that  no  Roman  Catholic  appeared 
to  have  been  admitted  10  the  consultations  of  the  conspirators. 

WILLIAM   AT*D    MART.  107 

therefore  do  well  to  take  without  delay  such  measures  as  might 
indicate  his  resolution  to  protect  the  established  religion.  Un- 
happily every  letter  which  arrived  from  France  contained 
something  tending  to  irritate  feelings  which  it  was  most  desirable 
to  soothe.  Stories  were  everywhere  current  of  slights  offered 
at  Saint  Germains  to  Protestants  who  had  given  the  highest 
proof  of  loyalty  by  following  into  banishment  a  master  zealous 
for  a  faith  which  was  not  their  own.  The  edicts  which  had  been 
issued  against  the  Huguenots  might  perhaps  have  been  justified 
by  the  anarchical  opinions  and  practices  of  those  sectaries  ;  but 
it  was  the  height  of  injustice  and  of  inhospitality  to  put  those 
edicts  in  force  against  men  who  had  been  driven  from  their  coun- 
try solely  on  account  of  their  attachment  to  a  Roman  Catholic 
King.  Surely  sons  of  the  Anglican  Church,  who  had,  in  obedi- 
ence to  her  teaching,  sacrificed  all  that  they  most  prized  on  earth 
to  the  royal  cause,  ought  not  to  be  any  longer  interdicted  from 
assembling  in  some  modest  edifice  to  celebrate  her  rites  and  to 
receive  her  consolations.  An  announcement  that  Lewis  had,  at 
the  request  of  James,  permitted  the  English  exiles  to  worship 
God  according  to  their  national  forms  would  be  the  best  prelude 
to  the  great  attempt.  That  attempt  ought  to  be  made  early  in 
the  spring.  A  French  force  must  undoubtedly  accompany  His 
Majesty.  But  he  must  declare  that  he  brought  that  force  only 
for  the  defence  of  his  person  and  for  the  protection  of  his  loving 
subjects,  and  that,  as  soon  as  the  foreign  oppressors  had  been 
expelled,  the  foreign  deliverers  should  be  dismissed.  He  must 
also  promise  to  govern  according  to  law,  and  must  refer  all  the 
points  which  had  been  in  dispute  between  him  and  his  people 
to  the  decision  of  a  Parliament.  . 

It  was  determined  that  Preston  should  carry  to  Saint  Ger- 
mains the  resolutions  and  suggestions  of  the  conspirators.  John 
Ashton,  a  person  who  had  been  clerk  of  the  closet  to  Mary  of 
Modena  when  she  was  on  the  throne,  and  who  was  entirely  de- 
voted to  the  interests  of  the  exiled  family,  undertook  to  pro- 
cure the  means  of  conveyance,  and  for  this  purpose  engaged  the 
co-operation  of  a  hotheaded  young  Jacobite  named  Elliot,  who 
only  knew  in  general  that  a  service  of  some  hazard  was  to  be 
rendered  to  the  good  cause. 


It  was  easy  to  find  in  the  port  of  London  a  vessel  the  owner 
of  which  was  not  scrupulous  about  the  use  for  which  it  might  be 
wanted.  Ashton  and  Elliot  were  introduced  to  the  master  of  a 
smack  named  the  James  and  Elizabeth.  The  Jacobite  agents 
pretended  to  be  smugglers,  and  talked  of  the  thousands  of  pounds 
which  might  be  got  by  a  single  lucky  trip  to  France  and  back 
again-  A  bargain  was  struck  :  a  sixpence  was  broken ;  and  all 
the  arrangements  were  made  for  the  voyage. 

Preston  was  charged  by  his  friends  with  a  packet  containing 
several  important  papers.  Among  these  was  a  list  of  the  Eng- 
lish fleet  furnished  by  Dartmouth,  who  was  in  communication 
with  some  of  his  old  companions  in  arms,  a  minute  of  the  resolu- 
tions which  had  been  adopted  at  the  meeting  of  the  conspirators, 
and  the  heads  of  a  Declaration  which  it  was  thought  desirable 
that  James  should  publish  at  the  moment  of  his  lauding.  There 
were  also  six  or  seven  letters  from  persons  of  note  in  the  Jac- 
obite party.  Most  of  these  letters  were  parables,  but  parables 
which  it  was  not  difficult  to  unriddle.  One  plotter  used  the 
cant  of  the  law.  There  was  hope  that  Mr.  Jackson  would  soon 
recover  his  estate.  The  new  landlord  was  a  hard  man,  and  had 
set  the  freeholders  against  him.  A  little  matter  would  redeem 
the  whole  property.  The  opinions  of  the  best  counsel  were  in 
Mr.  Jackson's  favour.  All  that  was  necessary  was  that' he 
should  himself  appear  in  Westminster  Hall.  The  final  hearing 
ought  to  be  before  the  close  of  Easter  Term.  Other  writers 
affected  the  style  of  the  Royal  Exchange.  There  was  great 
demand  for  a  cargo  of  the  right  sort.  There  was  reason  to 
hope  that  the  old  firm  would  soon  form  profitable  connections 
with  houses  with  which  it  had  hitherto  had  no  dealings.  This 
was  evidently  an  allusion  to  the  discontented  Whigs.  But,  it 
was  added,  the  shipments  must  not  be  delayed.  Nothing  was 
so  dangerous  as  to  overstay  the  market.  If  the  expected  goods 
did  not  arrive  by  the  tenth  of  March,  the  whole  profit  of  the 
year  would  be  lost.  As  to  details  entire  reliance  might  be 
placed  on  the  excellent  factor  who  was  going  over.  Clarendon 
assumed  the  character  of  a  match-maker.  There  was  great 
hope  that  the  business  which  he  had  been  negotiating  would 


be  brought  to  bear,  and  that  the  marriage  portion  would  be  well 
secured.  "  Your  relations,"  he  wrote,  in  allusion  to  his  recent 
confinement,  "  have  been  very  hard  on  me  this  last  summer. 
Yet,  as  soon  as  I  could  go  safely  abroad,  I  pursued  the  busi- 
ness." Catharine  Sedley  entrusted  Preston  with  a  letter  in 
which,  without  allegory  or  circumlocution,  she  complained  that 
her  lover  had  left  her  a  daughter  to  support,  and  begged  very 
hard  for  money.  But  the  two  most  important  despatches  were 
from  Bishop  Turner.  They  were  directed  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Redding :  but  the  language  was  such  as  it  would  be  thought 
abject  in  any  gentleman  to  hold  except  to  royalty.  The  Bishop 
assured  Their  Majesty's  that  he  was  devoted  to  their  cause,  that 
he  earnestly  wished  for  a  great  occasion  to  prove  his  zeal,  and 
that  he  would  no  more  swerve  from  his  duty  to  them  than  re- 
nounce his  hope  of  heaven.  He  added,  in  phraseology  meta- 
phorical indeed,  but  perfectly  intelligible,  that  he  was  the  mouth- 
piece of  several  of  the  nonjuring  prelates,  and  especially  of 
Sancroft.  "  Sir,  I  speak  in  the  plural," — these  are  the  words 
of  the  letter  to  James, — "  because  I  write  my  elder  brother's 
sentiments  as  well  as  my  own,  and  the  rest  of  our  family."  The 
letter  to  Mary  of  Modena  is  to  the  same  effect.  "  I  say  this 
in  behalf  of  my  elder  brother  and  the  rest  of  my  nearest  rela- 
tions, as  well  as  from  myself."  * 

All  the  letters  with  which  Preston  was  charged  referred  the 
Court  of  Saint  Germains  to  him  for  fuller  information.  He 
carried  with  him  minutes  in  his  own  handwriting  on  the  sub- 
jects on  which  he  was  to  converse  with  his  master  and  with  the 
ministers  of  Lewis.  These  minutes,  though  concise  and  desul- 
tory, can  for  the  most  part  be  interpreted  without  difficulty. 
The  vulnerable  points  of  the  coasts  are  mentioned.  Gosport  is 
defended  only  by  palisades.  The  garrison  of  Portsmouth  is 
small.  The  French  fleet  ought  to  be  out  in  April,  and  to  fight 
before  the  Dutch  are  in  the  Channel.  There  is  a  memorandum 

*  The  genuineness  of  these  letters  was  once  contested  on  very  frivolous 
grounds.  But  the  letter  of  Turner  to  .Sancroft,  which  is  among  the  Tanner  pa- 
pers in  the  Bodleian  Lihrary.  and  which  will  be  found  in  the  Life  of  Ken  by  a 
Layman,  must  convince  the  most  incredulous. 


which  proves  that  Preston  had  been  charged, — by  whom  it  is 
easy  to  guess,^with  a  commission  relating  to  Pennsylvania  ; 
arid  there  are  a  few  broken  words  clearly  importing  that  some 
at  least  of  the  nonjuring  bishops,  when  they  declared,  before 
God,  that  they  abhorred  the  thought  of  inviting  the  French  over, 
were  dissembling.* 

Everything  was  now  ready  for  Preston's  departure.  But 
the  owner  of  the  James  and  Elizabeth  had  conceived  a  suspi- 
cion that  the  expedition  for  which  his  smack  had  been  hired  was 
rather  of  a  political  than  of  a  commercial  nature.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  more  might  be  made  by  informing  against  his  pas- 
sengers than  by  carrying  them  safely.  Intelligence  of  what 
was  passing  was  conveyed  to  the  Lord  President.  No  intelli- 
gence could  be  more  welcome  to  him.  He  was  delighted  to  find 
that  it  was  in  his  power  to  give  a  signal  proof  of  his  attach- 
ment to  the  government  which  his  enemies  had  accused  him  of 
betraying.  He  took  his  measures  with  his  usual  energy  and 
dexterity.  His  eldest  son,  the  Earl  of  Danby,  a  bold,  volatile, 
and  somewhat  eccentric  young  man,  was  fond  of  the  sea,  lived 
much  among  sailors,  and  was  the  proprietor  of  a  small  yacht  of 
marvellous  speed.  This  vessel,  well  manned,  was  placed  under 
the  command  of  a  trusty  officer  named  Billop,  and  Was  sent 
down  the  river,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  pressing  mariners. 

At  dead  of  night,  the  last  night  of  the  year  1690,  Preston, 
Ashton,  and  Elliot  went  on  board  of  their  smack  near  the  Tower. 
They  were  in  great  dread  lest  they  should  be  stopped  and 
searched,  either  by  a  frigate  which  lay  off  Woolwich,  or  by 
the  guard  posted  at  the  blockhouse  of  Gravesend.  But,  when 
they  had  passed  both  frigate  and  blockhouse  without  being  chal- 
lenged, their  spirits  rose  :  their  appetites  became  keen  :  they 

*  The  memorandum  relating  to  Pennsylvania  ought  to  be  quoted  together 
with  the  two  sentences  which  precede  it.  "  A  commission  given  to  me  from  Mr. 
P.— FT.  Fl.  hinder  Eng.  and  D.  from  joining— two  vessels  of  150?.  price  for  Penn- 
Bilvania  for  13  or  14  months."  I  have  little  doubt  that  the  first  and  third  of  these 
sentences  are  parts  of  one  memorandum,  and  that  the  words  which  evidently 
relate  to  the  fleets  were  jotted  down  at  a  different  time  in  the  place  left  vacant 
between  two  lines.  The  words  relating  to  the  Bishops  are  these  :  "The  Modest 
Inquiry— The  Bishops'  Answer— Not  the  chilling  of  them— But  the  satisfying  of 
frienda."  The  Modest  Inquiry  was  the  pamphlet  which  hinted  at  Dewitting. 


unpacked  a  hamper  well  stored  with  roast  beef,  mince  pies,  and 
bottles  of  wine,  and  were  just  sitting  down  to  their  Christmas 
cheer,  when  the  alarm  was  given  that  a  swift  .vessel  from  Tilbury 
was  flying  through  the  water  after  them.  They  had  scarcely 
time  to  hide  themselves  in  a  dark  hole  among  the  gravel  which 
was  the  ballast  of  their  smack,  when  the  chase  was  over,  and 
Billop,  at  the  head  of  an  armed  party,  came  on  board.  The 
hatches  were  taken  up  :  the  conspirators  were  arrested  ;  and 
their  clothes  were  strictly  examined.  Preston,  in  his  agitation, 
had  dropped  on  the  gravel  his  official  seal  and  the  packet  of 
which  he  was  the  bearer.  The  seal  was  discovered  where  it 
had  fallen.  Ashton,  aware  of  the  importance  of  the  papers, 
snatched  them  up  and  tried  to  concea2  them  :  but  they  were 
soon  found  in  his  bosom. 

The  prisoners  then  tried  to  cajole  or  to  corrupt  Billop. 
They  called  for  wine,  pledged  him,  praised  his  gentlemanlike  de- 
meanour, and  assured  him  that  if  he  would  accompany  them, 
nay,  if  he  would  only  let  that  little  roll  of  paper  fall  overboard 
into  the  Thames,  his  fortune  would  be  made.  The  tide  of  af- 
fairs, they  said,  was  on  the  turn  :  things  could  not  go  on  for 
ever  as  they  had  gone  on  of  late  ;  and  it  was  in  the  captain's 
power  to  be  as  great  and  as  rich  as  he  could  desire.  Billop, 
though  courteous,  was  inflexible.  The  conspirators  became 
sensible  that  their  necks  were  in  imminent  danger.  The  emer- 
gency brought  out  strongly  the  true  characters  of  all  the  three, 
characters  which,  but  for  such  an  emergency,  might  have  re- 
mained for  ever  unknown.  Preston  had  always  been  reputed  a 
high  spirited  and  gallant  gentleman  :  but  the  near  prospect  of  a 
dungeon  and  a  gallows  altogether  unmanned  him.  Elliot  stormed 
and  blasphemed,  vowed  that,  if  he  ever  got  free,  he  would  be 
revenged,  and,  with  horrible  imprecations,  called  on  the  thunder 
to  strike  the  yacht,  and  on  London  Bridge  to  fall  in  and  crush 
her.  Ashton  alone  behaved  with  manly  firmness. 

Late  in  the  evening  the  yacht  reached  Whitehall  Stairs  ; 
and  the  prisoners,  strongly  guarded,  were  conducted  to  the 
Secretary's  office.  The  papers  which  had  been  found  in  Ashton's 
bvsoua  were  inspected  that  night  by  Nottingham  and  Caermar- 


then,  and  were,  on  the  following  morning,  put  by  Caermarthen 
into  the  hands  of  the  King. 

Soon  it  was  known  all  over  London  that  a  plot  had  been  de- 
tected, that  the  messengers  whom  the  adherents  of  James  had 
sent  to  solicit  the  help  of  an  invading  army  from  France  had 
been  arrested  by  the  agents  of  the  vigilant  and  energetic  Lord 
President,  and  that  documentary  evidence,  which  might  affect 
the  lives  of  some  great  men,  was  in  the  possession  of  the  govern- 
ment. The  Jacobites  were  terrorstricken  :  the  clamour  of  the 
Whigs  against  Caermarthen  was  suddenly  hushed  ;  and  the 
Session  ended  in  perfect  harmony.  On  the  fifth  of  January  the 
King  thanked  the  Houses  for  their  support,  and  assured  them 
that  he  would  not  grant  away  any  forfeited  property  in  Ireland 
till  they  should  reassemble.  He  alluded  to  the  plot  which  had 
just  been  discovered,  and  expressed  a  hope  that  the  friends  of 
England  would  not,  at  such  a  moment,  be  less  active  or  less 
firmly  united  than  her  enemies.  He  then  signified  his  pleasure 
that  the  Parliament  should  adjourn.  On  the  following  day  he 
set  out,  attended  by  a  splendid  train  of  nobles,  for  the  Congress 
at  the  Hague.* 

*  Lord's  aiid  Commons'  Journals,  Jan.  6,  1C90-1 ;  London  Gazette,  Jan.  8. 

WILLIA3I   AND    MARY.  113 


ON  the  eighteenth  of  January  1691,  the  King,  having  been 
detained  some  days  by  adverse  winds,  went  on  board  at  Grave- 
send.  Four  yachts  had  been  fitted  up  for  him  and  for  his 
retinue.  Among  his  attendants  were  Norfolk,  Ormoiid,  Devon- 
shire, Dorset,  Portland,  Moumouth,  Zulestein,  and  the  Bishop 
of  London.  Two  distinguished  admirals,  Cloudesley  Shovel 
and  George  Rooke,  commanded  the  men  of  war  which  formed 
the  convoy.  The  passage  was  tedious  and  disagreeable.  During 
many  hours  the  fleet  was  becalmed  off  the  Godwin  Sands ;  and 
it  was  not  till  the  fifth  day  that  the  soundings  proved  the  coast 
of  Holland  to  be  near.  The  sea  fog  was  so  thick  that  no  laud 
could  be  seen ;  and  it  was  not  thought  safe  for  the  ships  to  pro- 
ceed further  in  the  darkness.  William,  tired  out  by  the  voyage, 
and  impatient  to  be  once  more  in  his  beloved  country,  determined 
to  land  in  an  open  boat.  The  noblemen  who  were  in  his  train 
tried  to  dissuade  him  from  risking  so  valuable  a  life  :  but,  when 
they  found  that  his  mind  was  made  up,  they  insisted  on  sharing 
the  danger.  That  danger  proved  more  serious  than  they  had 
expected.  It  had  been  supposed  that  in  an  hour  the  party 
would  be  on  shore.  But  great  masses  of  floating  ice  impeded 
the  progress  of  the  skiff:  the  night  came  on  :  the  fog  grew 
thicker :  the  waves  broke  over  the  King  and  the  courtiers. 
Once  the  keel  struck  on  a  sand  bank,  and  was  with  great  diffi- 
culty got  off.  The  hardiest  mariners  showed  some  signs  of 
uneasiness.  But  William,  through  the  whole  night,  was  as 
composed  as  if  he  had  been  in  the  drawingroom  at  Kensington. 
"  For  shame,"  he  said  to  one  of  the  dismayed  sailors  :  "  are 
you  afraid  to  die  in  my  company  ?  "  A  bold  Dutch  seaman  ven- 
tured to  spring  out,  and,  with  great  difficulty,  swam  and  scrambled 
VOL.  IV.— 8 


through  breakers,  ice,  and  mud,  to  firm  ground.  Here  he  dis- 
charged a  musket  and  lighted  a  fire  as  a  signal  that  he  was  safe. 
None  of  his  fellow  passengers,  however,  thought  it  prudent  to 
follow  his  example.  They  lay  tossing  in  sight  of  the  flame 
which  he  had  kindled,  till  the  first  pale  light  of  a  January  morn- 
ing showed  them  that  they  were  close  to  the  island  of  Goree. 
The  Kins  and  his  Lords,  stiff  with  cold  and  covered  with  icicles, 

o  '  * 

gladly  landed  to  warm  and  rest  themselves.* 

After  reposing  some  hours  in  the  hut  of  a  peasant,  William 
proceeded  to  the  Hague.  He  was  impatiently  expected  there : 
for,  though  the  fleet  which  brought  him  was  not  visible  from 
the  shore,  the  royal  salutes  had  been  heard  through  the  mist, 
and  had  apprised  the  whole  coast  of  his  arrival.  Thousands 
had  assembled  at  Honslaerdyk  to  welcome  him  with  applause 
which  came  from  their  hearts  and  which  went  to  his  heart. 
That  was  one  of  the  few  white  days  of  a  life,  beneficent  indeed 
and  glorious,  but  far  from  happy.  After  more  than  two  years 
passed  in  a  strange  land,  the  exile  had  again  set  foot  on  his 
native  soil.  He  heard  again  the  language  of  his  nursery.  He 
saw  again  the  scenery  and  the  architecture  which  were  insepara- 
bly associated  in  his  mind  with  the  recollections  of  childhood 
and  the  sacred  feeling  of  home ;  the  dreary  mounds  of  sand, 
shells,  and  weeds,  on  which  the  waves  of  the  German  Ocean 
broke  ;  the  interminable  meadows  intersected  by  trenches ;  the 
straight  canals ;  the  villas  bright  with  paint,  and  adorned  with 
quaint  images  and  inscriptions.  He  had  lived  during  many 
weary  months  among  a  people  who  did  not  love  him,  who  did 
not  understand  him,  who  could  never  forget  that  he  was  a  for- 
eigner. Those  Englishmen  who  served  him  most  faithfully  served 
him  without  enthusiasm,  without  personal  attachment,  and  mere- 
ly from  a  sense  of  public  duty.  In  their  hearts  they  were  sorry 
that  they  had  no  choice  but  between  an  English  tyrant  and  a 
Dutch  deliverer.  All  was  now  changed.  William  was  among 
a  population  by  which  he  was  adored,  as  Elizabeth  had  been 

*  Relation  de  la  Voyage  de  Sa  Majeste1  Britannlque  en  Hollande,  enriehie  de 
planches  tres  curiousei,  1692;  Wageuar  ;  Loudon  Uazette,  Jail,  iii),  1U90-1; 
Burnet,  ii.  71. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  115 

adored  when  she  rode  through  her  army  at  Tilbury,  as  Charles 
the  Second  had  been  adored  when  he  landed  at  Dover.  It  is 
true  that  the  old  enemies  of  the  house  of  Orange  had  not  been 
inactive  during  the  absence  of  the  Stadtholder.  There  had  been, 
not  indeed  clamours,  butmutterings  against  him.  He  had,  it  was 
said,  neglected  his  native  land  for  his  new  kingdom.  Whenever 
the  dignity  of  the  English  flag,  whenever  the  prosperity  of  the 
English  trade  was  concerned,  he  forgot  that  he  was  a  Hollander. 
But,  as  soon  as  his  well  remembered  face  was  again  seen,  all 
jealousy,  all  coldness,  was  at  an  end.  There  was  not  a  boor, 
not  a  fisherman,  not  an  artisan,  in  the  crowds  which  lined  the 
road  from  Honslaerdyk  to  the  Hague,  whose  heart  did  not  swell 
with  pride  at  the  thought  that  the  first  minister  of  Holland  had 
become  a  great  King,  had  freed  the  English,  and  had  conquered 
the  Irish.  It  would  have  been  madness  in  William  to  travel 
from  Hampton  Court  to  Westminster  without  a  guard  :  but  in 
his  own  land  he  needed  no  swords  or  carbines  to  defend  him. 
"  Do  not  keep  the  people  off  ;"  he  cried:  "  let  them  come  close 
to  me  :  they  are  all  my  good  friends."  He  soon  learnt  that 
sumptuous  preparations  were  making  for  his  entrance  into  the 
Hague.  At  first  he  murmured  and  objected.  He  detested,  he 
said,  noise  and  display.  The  necessary  cost  of  the  war  was  quite 
heavy  enough.  He  hoped  that  his  kind  fellow  townsmen  would 
consider  him  as  a  neighbour,  born  and  bred  among  them,  and 
would  not  pay  him  so  bad  a  compliment  as  to  treat  him  ceremon- 
iously. But  all  his  expostulations  were  vain.  The  Hollanders, 
simple  and  parsimonious  as  their  ordinary  habits  were,  had  set 
their  hearts  on  giving  their  illustrious  countryman  a  reception 
suited  to  his  dignity  and  to  his  merit ;  and  he  found  it  necessary 
to  yield.  On  the  day  of  his  triumph  the  concourse  was  immense. 
All  the  wheeled  carriages  and  horses  of  the  province  were  too 
few  for  the  multitudes  that  flocked  to  the  show.  Many  thou- 
sands came  sliding  or  skating  along  the  frozen  canals  from 
Amsterdam,  Rotterdam,  Leyden,  Haarlem,  Delft.  At  ten  in  the 
morning  of  the  twenty-sixth  of  January,  the  great  bell  of  the 
Town  House  gave  the  signal.  Sixteen  hundred  substantial 
burghers,  well  armed,  and  clad  in  the  finest  dresses  which  were 


to  be  found  in  the  recesses  of  their  wardrobes,  kept  order  in  the 
crowded  streets.  Balconies  and  scaffolds,  embowered  in  ever- 
-  greens  and  hung  with  tapestry,  hid  the  windows.  The  royal 
coach,  escorted  by  an  army  of  halberdiers  and  running  footmen, 
and  followed  by  a  long  train  of  splendid  equipages,  passed  under 
numerous  arches  rich  with  carving  and  painting,  amidst  incessant 
shouts  of  "  Long  live  the  King  our  Stadtholder."  The  front  of 
Town  House  and  the  whole  circuit  of  the  marketplaca  were  in  a 
blaze  with  brilliant  colours.  Civic  crowns,  trophies,  emblems  of 
arts,  of  sciences,  of  commerce,  and  of  agriculture,  appeared  every- 
where. In  one  place  William  saw  portrayed  the  glorious  actions 
of  his  ancestors.  There  was  the  silent  prince,  the  founder  of 
the  Batavian  commonwealth,  passing  the  Meuse  with  his  war- 
riors. There  was  the  more  impetuous  Maurice  leading  the  charge 
at  Nieuport.  A  little  further  on,  the  hero  might  retrace  the 
eventful  story  of  his  own  life.  He  was  a  child  at  his  widowed 
mother's  knee.  He  was  at  the  altar  with  Mary's  hand  in  his. 
He  was  landing  at  Torbay.  He  was  swimming  through  the 
Boyne.  There,  too,  was  a  boat  amidst  the  ice  and  the  breakers  ; 
and  above  it  was  most  appropriately  inscribed,  in  the  majestic 
language  of  Rome,  the  saying  of  the  great  Roman,  "  What  dost 
thou  fear  ?  Thou  hast  Cassar  on  board."  The  task  of  furnish- 
ing the  Latin  mottoes  had  been  entrusted  to  two  men,  who,  till 
Bentley  appeared,  held  the  highest  place  among  the  classical 
scholars  of  that  age.  Spanheim,  whose  knowledge  of  the  Roman 
medals  was  unrivalled,  imitated,  not  unsuccessfully,  the  noble 
conciseness  of  those  ancient  legends,  which  he  had  assiduously 
studied  ;  and  he  was  assisted  by  Grasvius,  who  then  filled  a  chair 
at  Utrecht,  and  whose  just  reputation  had  drawn  to  that  Univer- 
sity multitudes  of  students  from  every  part  of  Protestant  Eu- 
rope.* When  the  night  came,  fireworks  were  exhibited  on  the 
great  tank  which  washes  the  walls  of  the  palace  of  the  Federa- 
tion. That  tank  was  now  as  hard  as  marble ;  and  the  Dutch 

*  The  names  of  these  two  great  scholars  are  associated  in  a  very  interesting 
letter  of  Bently  to  Grmvi'is.  dated  April  20, 1698.  "  Sclunt  omnes  qui  me  nonint, 
et  si  vitam  milii  Deus  O.  M.  prorogaverit,  scient  etiam  poster!,  ut  te  et  TOD  TTCIVV 
Rpanhemium,  geminos  hujus  sevi  Dioscuros,  lucida  literarum  sidera,  semper 
prsedicaverim,  semper  veiieratus  aim." 


boasted  that  nothing  had  ever  been  seen,  even  on  the  terrace  of 
Versailles,  more  brilliant  than  the  effect  produced  by  the  innumer- 
able cascades  of  flame  which  were  reflected  in  the  smooth  mirror 
of  ice.*  The  English  Lords  congratulated  their  master  on  his 
immense  popularity.  "  Yes,"  said  he :  "  but  I  am  not  the 
favourite.  The  shouting  was  nothing  to  what  it  would  have 
been  if  Mary  had  been  with  me." 

A  few  hours  after  the  triumphal  entry,  the  King  attended  a 
sitting  of  the  States  General.  His  last  appearance  among  them 
had  been  on  the  day  on  which  he  embarked  for  England.  He 
had  then,  amidst  the  broken  words  and  loud  weeping  of  those 
grave  Senators,  thanked  them  for  the  kindness  with  which  they 
had  watched  over  his  childhood,  trained  his  mind  in  youth,  and 
supported  his  authority  in  his  riper  years  ;  and  he  had  solemnly 
commended  his  beloved  wife  to  their  care.  He  now  came  back 
among  them  the  King  of  three  kingdoms,  the  head  of  the  greatest 
coalition  that  Europe  had  seen  since  the  League  of  Cambray ; 
and  nothing  was  heard  in  the  hall  but  applause  and  congratula- 

By  this  time  the  streets  of  the  Hague  were  overflowing  with 
the  equipages  and  retinues  of  princes  and  ambassadors  who 
came  flocking  to  the  great  Congress.  First  appeared  the  ambi- 
tious and  ostentatious  Frederic,  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  who, 
a  few  years  later,  took  the  title  of  King  of  Prussia.  Then  arrived 
the  young  Elector  of  Bavaria,  the  Regent  of  Wurtemberg,  the 
Landgraves  of  Hesse  Cassel  and  Hesse  Darmstadt,  and  a  long 
train  of  sovereign  princes,  sprung  from  the  illustrious  houses  of 
Brunswick,  of  Saxony,  of  Holstein,  and  of  Nassau.  The  Mar- 
quess of  Gastanaga,  Governor  of  the  Spanish  Netherlands, 
repaired  to  the  assembly  from  the  viceregal  Court  of  Brussels. 

*  Relation  de  la  Voyage  de  Sa  Majeste  Britannique  en  Hollande,  1692 ;  London 
Gazette,  Feb.  2,  1690-1  ;  Le  Triomphe  Royal  ou  Ton  voit  descrits  les  Arcs  de 
Triomphe,  Pyrainides,  Tableaux  et  Devises  au  Nombre  de  66,  erigez  a  la  Have  a 
I'lioimeur  de  Guillaume  Trois,  1692;  Le  Caniaval  de  la  Paye,  1691.  This  last 
work  is  a  savage  pasquinade  on  William. 

t  London  Gazette,  Feb.  5,  1690-1 ;  His  Majesty's  Speech  to  the  Assembly  of 
the  States  General  of  the  United  Provinces  at  the  Hague,  the  7th  of  February 
N.S.  together  with  the  Answer  of  their  High  and  Mighty  Lordship?,  as  both  are 
extracted  out  of  the  Register  of  the  Resolutions  of  the  States  General,  1691. 


Extraordinary  ministers  had  been  sent  by  the  Emperor,  by  the 
Kings  of  Spain,  Poland,  Denmark,  and  Sweden,  and  by  the 
Duke  of  Savoy.  There  was  scarcely  room  in  the  town  and  the 
neighbourhood  for  the  English  Lords  and  gentlemen  and 
the  German  Counts  and  Barons  whom  curiosity  or  official  duty 
had  brought  to  the  place  of  meeting.  The  grave  capital  of  the 
most  thrifty  and  industrious  of  nations  was  as  gay  as  Venice  in 
the  carnival.  The  walks  cut  among  those  noble  limes  and  elms 
in  which  the  villa  of  the  Princes  of  Orange  is  embosomed  were  gay 
with  the  plumes,  the  stars,  the  flowing  wigs,  the  embroidered 
coats,  and  the  gold  billed  swords  of  gallant  from  London,  Ber- 
lin, and  Vienna.  With  the  nobles  were  mingled  sharpers  not 
less  gorgeously  attired  than  they.  At  night  the  hazard  tables 
were  thronged  ;  and  the  theatre  was  filled  to  the  roof.  Princely 
banquets  followed  one  another  in  rapid  succession.  Tbe  meats 
were  served  in  gold  ;  and,  according  to  that  old  Teutonic  fashion 
with  which  Shakspeare  had  made  his  countrymen  familiar, 
as  often  as  any  of  the  great  princes  proposed  a  health,  the  kettle 
drums  and  trumpets  sounded.  Some  English  Lords,  particu- 
larly Devonshire,  gave  entertainments  which  vied  with  those  of 
Sovereigns.  It  was  remarked  that  the  German  potentates, 
though  generally  disposed  to  be  litigious  and  punctilious  about 
etiquette,  associated,  on  this  occasion,  in  an  unceremonious  man- 
ner, and  seemed  to  have  forgotten  their  passion  for  heraldic  con- 
troversy. The  taste  for  wine,  which  was  then  characteristic  of 
their  nation,  they  had  not  forgotten.  At  the  table  of  the  Elec- 
tor of  Brandenburg  much  mirth  was  caused  by  the  gravity 
of  the  statesmen  of  Holland,  who,  sober  themselves,  confuted 
out  of  Grotius  and  Puffeudorf  the  nonsense  stuttered  by  the 
tipsy  nobles  of  the  Empire.  One  of  those  nobles  swallowed  so 
many  bumpers  that  he  tumbled  into  the  turf  fire,  and  was  not 
pulled  out  till  his  fine  velvet  suit  had  been  burned.* 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  revelry,  business  was  not  neglected. 
A  formal  meeting  of  the  Congress  was  held  at  which  William 

*  Relation  de  la  Voyage  de  Sa  MajesW  Britanniqne  en  Hollamle  ;  Burnet,  ii. 
72  ;  London  Gazette,  Feb.  12, 19, 23,  1690-1 ;  Memoires  du  Comte  Dolma ;  William 
Fiuler's  Memoirs. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  119 

presided.  In  a  short  and  dignified  speech,  which  was  speedily 
circulated  throughout  Europe,  he  set  forth  the  necessity  of  firm 
union  and  strenuous  exertion.  The  profound  respect  with  which 
he  was  heard  by  that  splendid  assembly  caused  bitter  mortifica- 
tion to  his  enemies  both  in  England  and  in  France.  The  Ger- 
man potentates  were  bitterly  reviled  for  yielding  precedence  to  an 
upstart.  Indeed  the  most  illustrious  among  them  paid  to  him  such 
marks  of  deference  as  they  would-scarcely  have  deigned  to  pay  to 
the  imperial  Majesty,  mingled  with  the  crowd  in  his  antecham- 
ber, and  at  his  table  behaved  as  respectfully  as  any  English  lord 
in  waiting.  In  one  caricature  the  allied  princes  were  represented 
as  muzzled  bears,  some  with  crowns,  some  with  caps  of  state. 
William  had  them  all  in  a  chain,  and  was  teaching  them  to  dance. 
In  another  caricature,  he  appeared  taking  his  ease  in  an  arm 
chair,  with  his  feet  on  a  cushion,  and  his  hat  on  his  head,  while 
the  Electors  of  Brandenburg  and  Bavaria,  uncovered,  occupied 
small  stools  on  the  right  and  left :  the  crowd  of  Landgraves  and 
Sovereign  dukes  stood  at  humble  distance  ;  and  Gastanaga,  the 
unworthy  successor  of  Alva,  awaited  the  orders  of  the  heretic 
tyrant  on  bended  knee.* 

It  was  soon  announced  by  authority  that,  before  the  begin- 
ning of  summer,  two  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  men  would 
be  in  the  field  against  France,  t  The  contingent  which  each  of 
the  allied  powers  was  to  furnish  was  made  known.  Matters 
about  which  it  would  have  been  inexpedient  to  put  forth  any 
declaration  were  privately  discussed  by  the  King  of  England 
with  his  allies.  On  this  occasion,  as  on  every  other  important 
occasion  during  his  reign,  he  was  his  own  minister  for  foreign 
affairs.  It  was  necessary  for  the  sake  of  form  that  he  should 
be  attended  by  a  Secretary  of  State  ;  and  Nottingham  had 
therefore  followed  him  to  Holland.  But  Nottingham,  though, 
in  matters  relating  to  the  internal  government  of  England,  he 
enjoyed  a  large  share  of  his  master's  confidence,  knew  little  more 

*  TVagenaar,  Ixii. ;  Le  Carnaval  de  la  Haye,  Mars  1691 ;  Le  Tabouret  dea  Elec- 
tenrs.  April  1691  ;  Ceremonial  de  ce  qui  s'est  passe  a  la  Haye  entre  le  Roi  Guil- 
laume  et  les  Electeurs  de  Baviere  et  de  Brandebourg.  This  last  tract  ia  a  MS.  pre- 
sented to  the  British  Museum  by  George  IV. 

t  London  Gazette,  Feb.  20,  1690-1. 


about  the  business  of  the  Congress  than  what  he  saw  in  the 

This  mode  of  transacting  business  would  now  be  thought 
most  unconstitutional ;  and  many  writers,  applying  the  stand- 
ard of  their  own  age  to  the  transactions  of  a  former  age,  have 
severely  blamed  William  for  acting  without  the  advice  of  his 
ministers,  and  his  ministers  for  -submitting  to  be  kept  in  ignor- 
ance of  transactions  which  deeply  concerned  the  honour  of  the 
Crown  and  the  welfare  of  the  nation.  Yet  surely  the  presumption 
is  that  what  the  most  honest  and  honourable  men  of  both  par- 
ties, Nottingham,  for  example,  among  the  Tories,  and  Somers 
among  the  Whigs,  not  only  did,  but  avowed,  cannot  have  been 
altogether  inexcusable  ;  and  a  very  sufficient  excuse  will  with- 
out difficulty  be  found. 

The  doctrine  that  the  Sovereign  is  not  responsible  is  doubt- 
less as  old  as  any  part  of  our  constitution.  The  doctrine  that 
his  ministers  are  responsible  is  also  of  immemorial  antiquity. 
The  doctrine  that,  where  there  is  no  responsibility,  there  can 
be  no  trustworthy  security  against  maladministration,  is  one 
which,  in  our  age  and  country,  few  people  will  be  inclined  to 
dispute.  From  these  three  propositions  it  plainly  follows  that 
the  administration  is  likely  to  be  best  conducted  when  the 
Sovereign  performs  no  public  act  without  the  concurrence  and 
instrumentality  of  a  minister.  This  argument  is  perfectly 
sound.  But  we  must  remember  that  arguments  are  constructed 
in  one  way,  and  governments  in  another.  In  logic  none  but  an 
idiot  admits  the  premises  and  denies  the  legitimate  conclusion. 
But,  in  practice,  we  see  that  great  and  enlightened  communities 
t)ften  persist,  generation  after  generation,  in  asserting  principles 
and  refusing  to  act  upon  those  principles.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  any  real  polity  that  ever  existed  has  exactly  corres- 
ponded to  the  pure  idea  of  that  polity.  According  to  the.  pure 
idea  of  constitutional  royalty,  the  prince  reigns,  and  does  not 
govern ;  and  constitutional  royalty,  as  it  now  exists  in  England, 
comes  nearer  than  in  any  other  country  to  the  pure  idea.  Yet 
it  would  be  a  great  error  to  imagine,  even  now,  that  our  princes 
merely  reign  and  never  govern.  In  the  seventeenth  century, 

•WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  121 

both  Whigs  and  Tories  thought  it,  not  only  the  right,  but  the 
duty,  of  the  first  magistrate  to  govern.  All  parties  agreed,  in 
blamino-  Charles  the  Second  for  not  being  his  own  Prime  Minis- 

O  *-5 

ter  :  all  parties  agreed  in  praising  James  for  being  his  own 
Lord  High  Admiral ;  and  all  parties  thought  it  natural  and 
reasonable  that  William  should  be  his  own  Foreign  Secre- 

In  may  be  observed  that  the  ablest  and  best  informed  of 
those  who  have  censured  the  manner  in  which  the  negotiations 
of  that  time  were  conducted  are  scarcely  consistent  with  them- 
selves. For,  while  they  blame  William  for  being  his  own  Am- 
bassador Plenipotentiary  at  the  Hague,  they  praise  him  for 
beinsj  his  own  Commander  in  Chief  in  Ireland.  Yet  where  is 


the  distinction  in  principle  between  the  two  cases  ?  Surely 
every  reason  which  can  be  brought  to  prove  that  he  violated 
the  constitution,  when,  by  his  own  sole  authority  he  made  com- 
pacts with  the  Emperor  and  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  will 
equally  prove  that  he  violated  the  constitution,  when,  by  his 
own  sole  authority,  he  ordered  one  column  to  plunge  into  the 
water  at  Oldbridge  and  another  to  cross  the  bridge  of  Slane.  If 
the  constitution  gave  him  the  command  of  the  forces  of  the  State, 
the  constitution  gave  him  also  the  direction  of  the  foreign  rela- 
tions of  the  State.  On  what  principle  then  can  it  be  maintained 
that  he  was  at  liberty  to  exercise  the  former  power  without 
consulting  anybody,  but  that  he  was  bound  to  exercise  the  latter 
power  in  conformity  with  the  advice  of  a  minister  ?  Will  it  be 
said  that  an  error  in  diplomacy  is  likely  to  be  more  injurious 
to  the  country  than  an  error  in  strategy?  Surely  not.  It  is 
hardly  conceivable  that  any  blunder  which  William  might  have 
made  at  the  Hague  could  have  been  more  injurious  to  the  public 
interests  than  a  defeat  at  the  Boyne.  Or  will  it  be  said  that 
there  was  greater  reason  for  placing  confidence  iu  his  military 
than  in  his  diplomatic  skill  ?  Surely  not.  In  war  he  showed 
some  great  moral  and  intellectual  qualities  :  but,  as  a  tactician, 
he  did  not  rank  high  ;  arid  of  his  many  campaigns  only  two 
were  decidedly  successful.  In  the  talents  of  a  negotiator,  on 
the  other  hand,  he  has  never  been  surpassed.  Of  the  interests  and 


the  tempers  of  the  continental  courts  he  knew  more  than  all  his 
Privy  Council  together.  Some  of  his  ministers  were  doubtless 
men  of  great  ability,  excellent  orators  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and 
versed  in  our  insular  politics.  But,  in  the  deliberations  of  the  Con- 
gress Caermarthen  and  Nottingham  would  have  been  found  as  far 
inferior  to  him  as  he  would  have  been  found  inferior  to  them  in 
a  parliamentary  debate  on  a  question  purely  English.  The  coali- 
tion against  France  was  his  work.  He  alone  had  joined  together 
the  parts  of  that  great  whole ;  and  he  alone  could  keep  them 
together.  If  he  had  trusted  that  vast  and  complicated  machine 
in  the  hands  of  any  of  his  subjects,  it  would  instantly  have 
fallen  to  pieces. 

Some  things  indeed  were  to  be  done  which  none  of  his  sub- 
jects would  have  ventured  to  do.  Pope  Alexander  was  really, 
though  not  in  name,  one  of  the  allies :  it  was  of  the  highest 
importance  to  have  him  for  a  friend  :  and  yet  such  was  the 
temper  of  the  English  nation  that  an  English  minister  might 
well  shrink  from  having  any  dealings,  direct  or  indirect,  with  the 
Vatican.  The  Secretaries  of  State  were  glad  to  leave  in  the 
hands  of  their  master  a  matter  so  delicate  and  so  full  of  risk,  and 
to  be  able  to  protest  with  truth  that  not  a  line  to  which  the  most 
intolerant  Protestant  could  object  had  ever  gone  out  of  their 

It  must  not  be  supposed  however  that  William  ever  forgot 
that  his  especial,  his  hereditary,  mission^was  to  protect  the  Re- 
formed Faith.  His  influence  with  Roman  Catholic  princes  was 
constantly  and  strenuously  exerted  for  the  benefit  of  their  Pro- 
testant subjects.  In  the  spring  of  1691,  the  Waldensian  shep- 
herds, long  and  cruelly  persecuted,  and  weary  of  their  lives, 
were  surprised  by  glad  tidings.  Those  who  had  been  in  prison 
for  heresy  returned  to  their  homes.  Children,  who  had  been 
taken  from  their  parents  to  be  educated  by  priests,  were  senb 
back.  Congregations,  which  had  hitherto  met  only  by  stealth 
and  with  extreme  peril,  now  worshipped  God  without  molesta- 
tion in  the  face  of  day.  Those  simple  mountaineers  probably 
never  knew  that  their  fate  had  been  a  subject  of  discussion  at 
the  Hague,  and  that  they  owed  the  happiness  of  their  firesides 


and  the  security  of  their  humble  temples  to  the  ascendency 
which  William  exercised  over  the  Duke  of  Savoy.* 

No  coalition  of  which  history  has  preserved  the  memory  has 
had  an  abler  chief  than  William.  But  even  William  often  con- 
tended in  vain  against  those  vices  which  are  inherent  in  the 
nature  of  all  coalitions.  No  undertaking  which  requires  the 
hearty  and  long  continued  co-operation  of  many  independent 
states  is  likely  to  prosper.  Jealousies  inevitably  spring  up. 
Disputes  engender  disputes.  Every  confederate  is  tempted  to 
throw  on  others  some  part  of  the  burden  which  he  ought  him- 
self to  bear.  Scarcely  one  honestly  furnishes  the  promised  con- 
tingent. Scarcely  one  exactly  observes  the  appointed  day.  But 
perhaps  no  coalition  that  ever  existed  was  in  such  constant 
danger  of  dissolution  as  the  coalition  which  William  had  with 
infinite  difficulty  formed.  The  long  list  of  potentates,  who  met 
in  person  or  by  their  representatives  at  the  Hague,  looked  well 
in  the  Gazettes.  The  crowd  of  princely  equipages,  attended  by 
many  coloured  guards  and  lacqueys,  looked  well  among  the  lime 
trees  of  the  Voorhout.  But  the  very  circumstances  which  made 
the  Congress  more  splendid  than  other  congresses  made  the 
league  weaker  than  other  leagues.  The  more  numerous  the 
allies,  the  more  numerous  were  the  dangers  which  threatened 
the  alliance.  It  was  impossible  that  twenty  governments,  divided 
by  quarrels  about  precedence,  quarrels  about  territory,  quarrels 
about  trade,  quarrels  about  religion,  could  long  act  together  in 
perfect  harmony.  That  they  acted  together  during  several  years 
in  imperfect  harmony  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  wisdom,  patience, 
and  firmness  of  William. 

The  situation  of  his  great  enemy  was  very  different.  The 
resources  of  the  French  monarchy,  though  certainly  not  equal 
to  those  of  England,  Holland,  the  House  of  Austria,  and  the 
empire  of  Germany  united,  were  yet  very  formidable  :  they  were 
all  collected  in  a  central  position ;  and  they  were  all  under  the 
absolute  direction  of  a  single  mind.  Lewis  could  do  with  two 
words  what  William  could  hardly  bring  about  by  two  months  of 

*  The  secret  article  by  which  the  Duke  of  Savoy  bound  himself  to  prant  tolera- 
tion to  the  Waldeuses  is  in  Dumont's  collection.    It  was  signed  Feb.  8, 1691. 


negotiation  at  Berlin,  Munich,  Brussels,  Turin,  and  Vienna. 
Thus  France  was  found  equal  in  effective  strength  to  all  the 
states  which  were  combined  against  her.  For  in  the  political, 
as  in  the  natural  world,  there  may  be  an  equality  of  momentum 
between  unequal  bodies,  when  the  body  which  is  inferior  in 
weight  is  superior  in  velocity. 

This  was  soon  signally  proved.  In  March  the  princes  and 
ambassadors  who  had  been  assembled  at  the  Hague  separated : 
and  scarcely  had  they  separated  when  all  their  plans  were  dis- 
concerted by  a  bold  and  skilful  move  of  the  enemy. 

Lewis  was  sensible  that  the  meeting  of  the  Congress  was 
likely  to  produce  a  great  effect  on  the  public  mind  of  Europe. 
That  effect  he  determined  to  counteract  by  striking  a  sudden 
and  terrible  blow.  While  his  enemies  were  settling  how  many 
troops  each  of  them  should  furnish,  he  ordered  numerous  divis- 
ions of  his  army  to  march  from  widely  distant  points  towards 
Mons,  one  of  the  most  important,  if  not  the  most  important,  of 
the  fortresses  which  protected  the  Spanish  Netherlands.  His 
purpose  was  discovered  only  when  it  was  all  but  accomplished. 
William,  who  had  retired  for  a  few  days  to  Loo,  learned  with 
surprise  and  extreme  vexation,  that  cavalry,  infantry,  artillery, 
bridges  of  boats,  were  fast  approaching  the  fated  city  by  many 
converging  routes.  A  hundred  thousand  men  had  been  brought 
together.  All  the  implements  of  war  had  been  largely  provided 
by  Louvois,  the  first  of  living  administrators.  The  command 
was  entrusted  to  Luxemburg,  the  first  of  living  generals.  The 
scientific  operations  were  directed  by  Vauban,  the  first  of  living 
engineers.  That  nothing  might  be  wanting  which  could  kindle 
emulation  through  all  the  ranks  of  a  gallant  and  loyal  army, 
the  magnificent  King  himself  had  set  out  from  Versailles  for 
the  camp.  Yet  William  had  still  some  faint  hope  that  it  might 
be  possible  to  raise  the  siege.  He  flew  to  the  Hague,  put  all 
the  forces  of  the  States  General  in  motion,  and  sent  pressing 
messages  to  the  German  Princes.  Within  three  weeks  after  he 
had  received  the  first  hint  of  the  danger,  he  was  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  besieged  city,  at  the  head  of  near  fifty  thousand 
trogps  of  different  nations.  To  attack  a  superior  force  com- 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  125 

muuded  by  such  a  captain  as  Luxemburg  was  a  bold,  almost  a 
<le.c  perate  enterprise.  Yet  William  was  so  sensible  that  the  loss 
of  Mons  would  be  an  almost  irreparable  disaster  and  disgrace 
that  he  made  up  his  mind  to  run  the  hazard.  Pie  was  convinced 
that  the  event  of  the  siege  would  determine  the  policy  of  the 
Courts  of  Stockholm  and  Copenhagen.  Those  courts  had  lately 
seemed  inclined  to  join  the  coalition.  If  Mons  fell,  they  would 
certainly  remain  neutral ;  and  they  might  possibly  become  hos- 
tile. "  The  risk,"  he  wrote  to  Heinsius,  ';  is  great :  yet  I  am 
not  without  hope.  I  will  do  what  can  be  done.  The  issue  is 
in  the  hands  of  God."  On  the  very  day  on  which  this  letter 
was  written  Mons  fell.  The  siege  had  been  vigorously  pressed. 
Lewis  himself,  though  suffering  from  the  gout,  had  set  the  ex- 
ample of  strenuous  exertion.  His  household  troops,  the  finest 
body  of  soldiers  in  Europe,  had,  under  his  eye,  surpassed  them- 
selves. The  young  nobles  of  his  court  had  tried  to  attract  his 
notice  by  exposing  themselves  to  the  hottest  fir«  with  the  same 
gay  alacrity  with  which  they  were  wont  to  exhibit  their  grace- 
ful figures  at  his  balls.  His  wounded  soldiers  were  charmed  by 
the  benignant  courtesy  with  whieh  he  walked  among  their  pal- 
lets, assisted  while  wounds  were  dressed  by  the  hospital  sur- 
geons, and  breakfasted  on  a  porringer  of  the  hospital  b;o  h. 
While  all  was  obedience  and  enthusiasm  among  the  besiegers, 
all  was  disunion  and  dismay  among  the  besieged.  The  duty  of 
the  French  lines  was  so  well  performed  that  no  messenger  sent 
by  William  was  able  to  cross  them.  The  garrison  did  not  know 
that  relief  was  close  at  hand.  The  burghers  were  appalled  by 
the  prospects  of  those  horrible  calamities  which  befall  cities 
taken  by  storm.  Showers  of  shells  and  redhot  bullets  were 
falling  in  the  streets.  The  town  was  on  fire  in  ten  places  at 
once.  The  peaceful  inhabitants  derived  an  unwonted  courage 
from  the  excess  of  their  fear,  and  rose  on  the  soldiers.  Thence- 
forth resistance  was  impossible  ;  and  a  capitulation  was  con- 
cluded. The  armies  then  retired  into  quarters.  Military  ope- 
rations were  suspended  during  some  weeks  :  Lewis  returned  in 
triumph  to  Versailles  ;  and  William  paid  a  short  visit  to  Eng- 
land, where  his  presence  was  much  needed.* 

*  London  Gazette  from  March  26.  to  April  13,  1601 ;  Monthly  Mercuries  of 


He  found  the  ministers  still  employed  in  tracing  out  the 
ramifications  of  the  plot  which  had  been  discovered  just  before 
his  departure.  Early  in  January,  Preston,  Ashton,  and  Elliot, 
had  been  arraigned  at  the  Old  Bailey.  They  claimed  the  right 
of  severing  in  their  challenges.  It  was  therefore  necessary  to 
try  them  separately.  The  audience  was  numerous  and  splendid. 
Many  peers  were  present.  The  Lord  President  and  the  two 
Secretaries  of  State  attended  in  order  to  prove  that  the  papers 
produced  in  Court  were  the  same  which  Billop  had  brought  to 
Whitehall.  A  considerable  number  of  Judges  appeared  on  the 
bench  ;  and  Holt  presided.  A  full  report  of  the  proceedings 
has  come  down  to  us,  and  well  deserves  to  be  attentively  studied, 
and  to  be  compared  with  the  reports  of  other  trials  which  had 
not  long  before  taken  place  under  the  same  roof.  The  whole 
spirit  of  the  tribunal  had  undergone  in  a  few  months  a  change  so 
complete  that  it  might  seem  to  have  been  the  work  of  ages.  Twelve 
years  earlier,  unhappy  Roman  Catholics,  accused  of  wickedness 
which  had  never  entered  into  their  thoughts,  had  stood  in 
that  dock.  The  witnesses  for  the  Crown  had  repeated  their 
hideous  fictions  amidst  the  applauding  hums  of  the  audience. 
The  judges  had  shared,  or  had  pretended  to  share  the  stupid 
credulity  and  the  savage  passions  of  the  populace,  had  exchanged 
smiles  and  compliments  with  the  perjured  informers,  had 
roared  down  the  arguments  feebly  stammered  forth  by  the 
prisoners,  and  had  not  been  ashamed,  in  passing  the  sentence  of 
death,  to  make  ribald  jests  on  purgatory  and  the  mass.  As 
soon  as  the  butchery  of  Papists  was  over,  the  butchery  of 
Whigs  had  commenced ;  and  the  judges  had  applied  themselves 
to  their  new  work  with  even  more  than  their  old  barbarity.  To 
these  scandals  the  Revolution  had  put  an  end.  Whoever,  after 
perusing  the  trials  of  Ireland  and  Pickering,  of  Grove  and  Ber- 
ry, of  Sidney,  Cornish,  and  AUce  Lisle,  turns  to  the  trials  of 

March  and  April ;  William's  Letters  to  Heinsius  of  March  18,  and  29,  April  7,  9 ; 
Dangeau's  Memoirs  ;  the  Siege  of  Moiis,  a  tragi-comedy,  1691.  In  this  drama  the 
clergy,  who  are  in  the  interest  of  France,  persuade  the  burghers  to  deliver  up  the 
town.  This  treason  calls  forth  an  indignant  exclamation  : 

"  Oh  priestcraft,  shopcraft,  how  do  ye  effeminate 
The  minds  of  men  I " 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  127 

Preston  and  Ashton,  will  be  astonished  by  the  contrast.  The 
Solicitor  General,  Somers,  conducted  the  prosecutions  with  a 
moderation  and  humanity  of  which  his  predecessors  had  left  him 
no  example.  "  I  did  never  think,"  he  said,  "  that  it  was  the 
part  of  any  who  were  of  counsel  for  the  King  in  cases  of  this 
nature  to  aggravate  the  crime  of  the  prisoners,  or  to  put  false 
colours  on  the  evidence."*  Holt's  conduct  was  faultless.  Pol- 
lexfen,  an  older  man  than  Holt  or  Somers,  retained  a  little, — 
and  a  little  was  too  much, — of  the  tone  of  that  bad  school  in 
which  he  had  been  bred.  But,  though  he  once  or  twice  forgot 
the  austere  decorum  of  his  place,  he  cannot  be  accused  of  any 
violation  of  substantial  justice.  The  prisoners  themselves  seem 
to  have  been  surprised  by  the  fairness  and  gentleness  with  which 
they  were  treated.  "  I  would  not  mislead  the  jury,  I'll  assure 
you,"  said  Holt  to  Preston,  "  nor  do  Your  Lordship  any  man- 
ner of  injury  in  the  world."  "  No,  my  Lord ;  "  said  Preston  ; 
"  I  see  it  well  enough  that  Your  Lordship  would  not."  "  What- 
ever my  fate  may  be,"  said  Ashton,  "  I  cannot  but  own  that  I 
have  had  a  fair  trial  for  my  life." 

The  culprits  gained  nothing  by  the  moderation  of  the  Solici- 
tor General  or  by  the  impartiality  of  the  Court :  for  the  evi- 
dence was  irresistible.  The  meaning  of  the  papers  seized  by 
Billop  was  so  plain  that  the  dullest  jurymen  could  not  misunder- 
stand it.  Of  those  papers  part  was  fully  proved  to  be  in  Pres- 
ton's handwriting.  Part  was  in  Ashton's  handwriting :  but 
this  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution  had  not  the  means 
of  proving.  They  therefore  rested  the  case  against  Ashton 
on  the  indisputable  facts  that  the  treasonable  packet  had 
been  found  in  his  bosom,  and  that  he  had  used  language 
which  was  quite  unintelligible  except  on  the  supposition  that 
he  had  a  guilty  knowledge  of  the  contents. f 

*  Trial  of  Preston  in  the  Collection  of  State  Trials.  A  person  who  was  present 
gives  the  following  account  of  Somers's  opening  speech :  "  In  the  opening  the 
evidence,  there  was  no  affected  exaggeration  of  matters,  nor  ostentation  of  a 
putid  eloquence,  one  after  another,  as  in  former  trials,  like  so  many  geese  cack- 
ling in  a  row.  Here  was  nothing  besides  fair  matter  of  fact,  or  natural  and  just 
reflections  from  thence  arising."  The  pamphlet  from  which  I  quote  these  words 
is  entitled,  An  Account  of  the  late  horrid  Conspiracy,  by  a  Person  who  was  present 
at  the  Trials,  1691. 

t  State  Trials. 


Both  Preston  and  Ashton  were  convicted  and  sentenced  to 
death.  Ashton  was  speedily  executed.  He  might  have  saved 
his  life  by  making  disclosures.  But,  though  he  declared  that, 
if  he  were  spared,  he  would  always  be  a  faithful  subject  of 
Their  Majesties,  he  was  fully  resolved  not  to  give  up  the  names 
of  his  accomplices.  In  this  resolution  he  was  encouraged  by 
the  nonjuring  divines  who  attended  him  in  his  cell.  It  was 
probably  by  their  influence  that  he  was  induced  to  deliver  to 
the  Sheriffs  on  the  scaffold  a  declaration  which  he  had  tran- 
scribed and  signed,  but  had  not,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  composed  or 
attentively  considered.  In  this  paper  he  was  made  to  complain 
of  the  unfairness  of  a  trial  which  he  had  himself  in  public  ac- 
knowledged to  have  been  eminently  fair.  He  was  also  made 
to  aver,  on  the  word  of  a  dying  man,  that  he  knew  nothing  of 
the  papers  which  had  been  found  upon  him.  Unfortunately 
his  declaration,  when  inspected,  proved  to  be  in  the  same  hand- 
writing with  one  of  the  most  important  of  those  papers.  He 
died  with  manly  fortitude.* 

Elliot  was  not  brought  to  trial.  The  evidence  against  him 
was  not  quite  so  clear  as  that  on  which  his  associates  had  been 
convicted  ;  and  he  was  not  worth  the  anger  of  the  ruling  powers. 
The  fate  of  Preston  was  long  in  suspense.  The  Jacobites 
affected  to  be  confident  that  the  government  would  not  dare  to 
to  shed  his  blood.  He  was,  they  said,  a  favourite  at  Versailles 
and  his  death  would  be  followed  by  a  terrible  retaliation.  They 
scattered  about  the  streets  of  London  papers  in  which  it  was 
asserted  that,  if  any  harm  befell  him,  Mountjoy,  and  all  the 
other  Englishmen  of  quality  who  were  prisoners  in  France,  would 
be  broken  on  the  wheel. f  These  absurd  threats  would  not  have 
deferred  the  execution  one  day.  But  those  who  had  Preston  in 
their  power  were  not  unwilling  to  spare  him  on  certain  conditions. 
He  was  privy  to  all  the  counsels  of  the  disaffected  party,  and  could 
furnish  information  of  the  highest  value.  He  was  informed 

*  Paper  delivered  by  Mr.  Ashton,  at  his  execution,  to  Sir  Francis  Child,  Sher- 
iff of  London  ;  Answer  to  the  Paper  delivered  by  Mr.  Ashton.  The  answer  was 
•written  by  Dr.  Edward  Fowler,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Gloucester.  Burnet,  ii.  70  ; 
Letter  from  Bishop  Lloyd  to  Dodwell,  in  the  second  volume  of  Gutch's  Collectanea,  • 
Curiosa,  t  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary. 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  129 

that  his  fate  depended  on  himself.  The  struggle  was  long  and 
severe.  Pride,  conscience,  party  spirit,  were  on  one  side ;  the 
intense  love  of  life  on  the  other.  He  went  during  a  time  irres- 
olutely to  and  fro.  He  listened  to  his  brother  Jacobites ;  and 
his  courage  rose.  He  listened  to  the  agents  of  the  government ; 
and  his  heart  sank  within  him.  In  an  evening,  when  he  had 
dined  and  drunk  his  claret,  he  feared  nothing.  He  would 
die  like  a  man,  rather  than  save  his  neck  by  an  act  of  baseness. 
But  his  temper  was  very  different  when  he  woke  next  morn- 
ing, when  the  courage  which  he  had  drawn  from  wine  and  com- 
pany had  evaporated,  when  he  was  alone  with  the  iron  grates 
and  stone  walls,  and  when  the  thought  of  the  block,  the  axe,  and 
the  sawdust  rose  in  his  mind.  During  some  time  he  regularly 
wrote  a  confession  every  forenoon,  when  he  was  sober,  and  burn 
ed  every  night  when  he  was  merry.*  His  nonjuring  friends  form- 
ed a  plan  for  bringing  Sancroft  to  visit  the  Tower,  in  the  hope, 
doubtless,that  the  exhortations  of  so  great  a  prelate  and  so  great  a 
saint  would  confirm  the  wavering  virtue  of  the  prisoner.f  Wheth- 
er this  plan  would  have  been  successful  may  be  doubted :  it  was 
not  carried  into  effect :  the  fatal  hour  drew  near ;  and  the  for- 
titude of  Preston  gave  way.  He  confessed  his  guilt,  and  named 
Clarendon,  Dartmouth,  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  and  William  Penn 
as  his  accomplices.  He  added  a  long  list  of  persons  against 
whom  he  could  not  himself  give  evidence,  but  who,  if  he  could 
trust  to  Penn's  assurances,  were  friendly  to  King  James. 
Among  these  persons  were  Devonshire  and  Dorset.  $  There  is 
not  the  slightest  reason  to  believe  that  either  of  these  great 
noblemen  ever  had  any  dealings,  direct  or  indirect,  with  Saint 
Germains.  It  is  not,  however,  necessary  to  accuse  Penn  of 
deliberate  falsehood.  He  was  credulous  and  garrulous.-  The 
Lord  Steward  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain  had  shared  in  the  vexa- 
tion with  which  their  party  had  observed  the  leaning  of  William 
towards  the  Tories ;  and  they  had  probably  expressed  that  vex- 
ation unguardedly.  So  weak  a  man  as  Penn,  wishing  to  find 

*  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  ;  Burnet,  ii.  71. 

t  Letter  of  Collier  and  Cook  to  Bancroft  among  the  Tanner  MSS. 

t  Caermartlien  to  William,  February  3,  1690-1 ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  443. 

VOL.  IV.— 9 


Jacobites  everywhere,  and  prone  to  believe  whatever  he  wished, 
might  easily  put  an  erroneous  construction  on  invectives  such  as 
the  haughty  and  irritable  Devonshire  was  but  too  ready  to  utter, 
and  on  sarcasms  such  as,  in  moments  of  spleen,  dropped  but 
too  easily  from  the  lips  of  the  keenwitted  Dorset.  Caermarthen, 
a  Tory,  and  a  Tory  who  had  been  mercilessly  persecuted  by  the 
Whigs,  was  disposed  to  make  the  most  of  this  idle  hearsay. 
But  he  received  no  encouragement  from  his  master,  who,  of  all 
the  great  politicians  mentioned  in  history,  was  the  least  prone  to 
suspicion.  When  William  returned  to  England,  Preston  was 
brought  before  him,  and  was  commanded  to  repeat  the  confes- 
sion which  had  already  been  made  to  the  ministers.  The  King 
stood  behind  the  Lord  President's  chair  and  listened  gravely 
while  Clarendon,  Dartmouth,  Turner,  and  Penn  were  named. 
But  as  soon  as  the  prisoner,  passing  from  what  he  could  himself 
testify,  began  to  repeat  the  stories  which  Penn  had  told  him, 
William  touched  Caermarthen  on  the  shoulder,  and  said,  "  My 
Lord,  we  have  had  too  much  of  this."  *  The  King's  judicious 
magnanimity  had  its  proper  reward.  Devonshire  and  Dorset 
became  from  that  day  more  zealous  than  ever  in  the  cause  of 
the  master  who,  in  spite  of  calumny,  for  which  their  own  indis- 
cretion had  perhaps  furnished  some  ground,  had  continued  to 
repose  confidence  in  their  loyalty.  $ 

Even  those  who  were  undoubtedly  criminal  were  generally 
treated  with  great  lenity.  Clarendon  lay  in  the  Tower  about 
six  months.  His  guilt  was  fully  established ;  and  a  party 
among  the  Whigs  called  loudly  and  importunately  for  his  head. 
But  he  was  saved  by  the  pathetic  entreaties  of  his  brother 
Rochester,  by  the  good  offices  of  the  humane  and  generous  Bur- 
net,  and  by  Mary's  respect  for  the  memory  of  her  mother.  The 

*  That  this  account  of  what  passed  is  true  in  substance  is  sufficiently  proved 
by  the  Life  of  James,  ii.  443.  I  have  taken  one  or  two  slight  circumstances  from 
Dalrymple,  who,  I  believe,  took  them  trom  papers,  now  irrecoverably  lost,  which 
he  had  seen  in  the  Scotch  College  at  Paris. 

t  The  wisdom  of  William's  "  seeming  clemency"  is  admitted  in  the  Life  of 
James,  ii.  443.  The  Prince  of  Orange's  method,  it  is  acknowledged,  "  succeeded 
BO  well  that,  whatever  sentiments  those  Lords  which  Mr.  Penn  had  named  might 
have  had  at  that  time,  they  proved  in  effect  most  bitter  enemies  to  his  Majesty's 
cause  afterwards."  It  ought  to  be  obseryed  that  this  part  of  the  Life  of  Jamea 
was  revised  and  corrected  by  his  sou. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  131 

prisoner's  confinement  was  not  strict.  He  was  allowed  to  en- 
tertain his  friends  at  dinner.  When  at  length  his  health  began 
to  suffer  from  restraint,  he  was  permitted  to  go  into  the  country 
under  the  care  of  a  warder:  the  warder  was  soon  removed; 
and  Clarendon  was  informed  that  while  he  led  a  quiet,  rural 
life,  he  should  not  be  molested.* 

The  treason  of  Dartmouth  was  of  no  common  dye.  He  was 
an  English  seaman,  and  he  had  laid  a  plan  for  betraying  Ports- 
mouth  to  the  French,  and  had  offered  to  take  the  command  of  a 
French  squadron  against  his  country.  It  was  a  serious  aggravation 
of  his  guilt  that  he  had  been  one  of  the  very  first  persons  who  took 
the  oaths  to  William  and  Mary.  He  was  arrested  and  brought 
to  the  Council  Chamber.  A  narrative  of  what  passed  there, 
written  by  himself,  has  been  preserved.  In  that  narrative  he 
admits  that  he  was  treated  with  great  courtesy  and  delicacy. 
He  vehemently  asserted  his  innocence.  He  declared  that  he 
had  never  corresponded  with  Saint  Germains,  that  he  was  no 
favourite  there,  and  that  Mary  of  Modena  in  particular  owed 
him  a  grudge.  "  My  Lords,"  he  said,  "  I  am  an  Englishman. 
I  always,  when  the  interest  of  the  House  of  Bourbon  was  strong- 
est here,  shunned  the  French,  both  men  and  women.  I  would 
lose  the  last  drop  of  my  blood  rather  than  see  Portsmouth  in 
the  power  of  foreigners.  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  think  that 
King  Lewis  will  conquer  us  merely  for  the  benefit  of  King 
James.  I  am  certain  that  nothing  can  be  truly  imputed  to  me 
beyond  some  foolish  talk  over  a  bottle."  His  protestations 
seem  to  have  produced  some  effect ;  for  he  was  at  first  per- 
mitted to  remain  in  the  gentle  custody  of  the  Black  Rod.  On  fur- 
ther enquiry,  however,  it  was  determined  to  send  him  to  the 
Tower.  After  a  confinement  of  a  few  weeks  he  died  of  apoplexy ; 
but  he  lived  long  enough  to  complete  his  disgrace  by  offering 
his  sword  to  the  new  government,  and  by  expressing  in  fervent 
language  his  hope  that  he  might,  by  the  goodness  of  God  and  of 
Their  Majesties,  have  an  opportunity  of  showing  how  much  he 
hated  the  Freuch.f 

«  See  his  Diary  ;  Evelyn's  Diary,  Mar.  25,  April  22,  July  11, 1691 ;  Burnet,  ii. 
71 ;  Letters  of  Rochester  to  Burnet,  March  21,  and  April  2,  1691. 

t  Life  of  James,  ii.  443,  450  ;  Legge  Papers  hi  the  Mackintosh  Collection. 


Turner  ran  no  serious  risk  :  for  the  government  was  most  un- 
willing to  send  to  the  scaffold  one  of  the  Seven  who  had  signed 
the  memorable  petition.  A  warrant  was  however  issued  for  his 
apprehension  ;  aud  his  friends  had  little  hope  that  he  would  long 
remain  undiscovered :  for  his  nose  was  such  as  none  who  had 
seen  it  could  forget ;  and  it  was  to  little  purpose  that  he  put 
on  a  flowing  wig,  and  that  he  suffered  his  beard  to  grow.  The 
pursuit  was  probably  not  very  hot :  for,  after  skulking  a  few 
weeks  in  England,  he  succeeded  in  crossing  the  Channel,  aud 
passed  some  time  in  France.* 

A  warrant  was  issued  against  Penn;  and  he  narrowly  es- 
caped the  messengers.  It  chanced  that,  on  the  day  on  which 
they  were  sent  in  search  of  him,  he  was  attending  a  remarkable 
ceremony  at  some  distance  from  his  home.  An  event  had  taken 
place  which  a  historian,  whose  object  is  to  record  the  real  life  of 
a  nation,  ought  not  to  pass  unnoticed.  While  London  was  agi- 
tated by  the  news  that  a  plot  had  been  discovered,  George  Fox, 
the  founder  of  the  sect  of  Quakers,  died. 

More  than  forty  years  had  elapsed  since  Fox  had  begun  to 
see  visions  and  to  cast  out  devils.f  He  was  then  a  youth  of  pure 
morals  and  grave  deportment,  with  a  perverse  temper,  with  the 
^education  of  a  labouring  man,  and  with  an  intellect  in  the  most 
unhappy  of  all  states,  that  is  to  say,  too  much  disordered  for  lib- 
erty, and  not  sufficiently  disordered  for  Bedlam.  The  circum- 
stances in  which  he  was  placed  were  such  as  could  scarcely  fail 
to  bring  out  in  tb.3  strongest  form  the  constitutional  diseases  of 
his  mind.  At  the  time  when  his  faculties  were  ripening,  Episco- 
palians, Presbyterians,  Independents,  Baptists,  were  striving  for 

*  Burnet,  ii.  71  ;  Evelyn's  Diary,  Jan.  4  and  18,  1690-1  ;  Letter  from  Turner 
to  Bancroft,  Jan.  19,  1690-1 ;  Letter  from  Bancroft  to  Lloyd  of  Norwich,  April  2, 
1692.  These  two  letters  are  among  the  Tanner  MSS.  in  the  Bodleian  Library, 
and  are  printed  in  the  Life  of  Ken  by  a  Layman.  Turner's  escape  to  France  is 
mentioned  in  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  for  February  1690.  See  also  a  Dialogue 
between  the  Bishop  of  Ely  and  his  Conscience,  16th  February  1690-1.  The  dia- 
logue is  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  trumpets.  The  Bishop  hears  himself  pro- 
claimed a  traitor,  and  cries  out, 

"  Come  brother  Pen,  'tis  time  we  both  were  gone." 

T  For  a  specimen  of  his  visions,  see  his  Journal,  page  13 ;  for  his  casting  out 
<tl  devils,  page  26.  I  quote  the  folio  edition  of  1765. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  133 

mastery,  and  were,  in  every  corner  of  the  realm,  refuting  and  re- 
viling each  other.  He  wandered  from  congregation  to  congrega- 
tion :  he  heard  priests  harangue  against  Puritans  ;  he  heard  Pu- 
ritans harangue  against  priests  :  and  he  in  vain  applied  for  spir- 
itual direction  and  consolation  to  doctors  of  both  parties.  One 
jolly  old  clergyman  of  the  Anglican  communion  told  him  to 
smoke  tobacco  and  sing  psalms :  another  counselled  him  to  go  and 
lose  some  blood.*  From  these  advisers  the  young  enquirer  turned 
in  disgust  to  the  Dissenters,  and  found  them  also  blind  guides. f 
After  some  time  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  no  human  being 
was  competent  to  instruct  him  in  divine  things,  and  that  the  truth 
had  been  communicated  to  him  by  direct  inspiration  from  heaven. 
He  argued  that,  as  the  division  of  languages  began  at  Babel, 
and  as  the  persecutors  of  Christ  put  on  the  cross  an  inscrip- 
tion in  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew,  the  knowledge  of  lan- 
guages, and  more  especially  of  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew, 
must  be  useless  to  a  Christian  Minister.:):  Indeed,  he  was 
so  far  from  knowing  many  languages  that  he  knevt  none  :  nor 
can  the  most  corrupt  passage  in  Hebrew  be  more  unintelligible 
to  the  unlearned  than  his  English  often  is  to  the  most  acute  and 
attentive  reader.§  One  of  the  precious  truths  which  were 

*  Journal,  page  4.  t  Ibid,  page  7. 

J  "  What  they  know,  they  know  naturally,  who  turn  from  the  command  and 
err  from  the  spirit,  whose  fruit  withers,  who  saith  that  Hebrew,  Greek,  and 
Latine  is  the  original ;  before  Babell  was,  the  earth  was  of  one  language  ;  and 
Nimrod  the  cunning  hunter,  before  the  Lord,  which  came  out  of  cursed  Ham's 
stock,  the  original  and  builder  of  Babell,  whom  God  confounded  with  many  lan- 
guages, and  this  they  say  is  the  original  who  erred  from  the  spirit  ;md  command  ; 
and  Pilate  had  his  original  Hebrew,  Greek  and  Latine,  which  crucified  Christ 
and  set  over  him." — A  message  from  the  Lord  to  the  Parliament  of  England,  by 
G.  Fox,  1654.  The  same  argument  will  be  found  in  the  Journals,  but  has  been  put 
by  the  editor  into  a  little  better  English.  "  Dost  thou  think  to  make  ministers 
of  Christ  by  these  natural  confused  languages  which  sprung  from  Babell,  are 
admired  in  Babylon,  and  set  atop  of  Christ,  the  Life,  by  a  persecutor  ?"— Page  64. 

§  His  Journal,  before  it  was  published,  was  revised  by  men  of  more  sense  and 
knowledge  than  himself,  and  therefore,  absurd  as  it  is,  gives  us  no  notion  of  his 
genuine  style.  The  following  is  a  fair  specimen.  It  is  the  exordium  of  one  of 
his  manifestoes.  "  Them  which  the  world  who  are  without  the  fear  of  God  calls 
Quakers  in  scorn  do  deny  all  opinions,  and  they  do  deny  all  conceivings,  and 
they  do  deny  all  sects,  and  they  do  deny  all  imaginations,  and  notions,  and  judg- 
ments which  riseth  out  of  the  will  and  the  thoughts,  and  do  deny  witchcraft  and 
all  oaths,  and  the  world  and  the  works  of  it,  and  their  worships  and  their  customs 
with  the  light,  and  do  deny  false  ways  and  false  worships,  seducers  and  deceivers 
•which  are  now  seen  to  be  in  the  world  with  the  light,  and  with  it  they  are  con- 


divinely  revealed  to  this  new  apostle  was,  that  it  was  falsehood 
and  adulation  to  use  the  second  person  plural  instead  of  the 
second  person  singular.  Another  was.  that  to  talk  of  the  Month 
of  March  was  to  worship  the  bloodthirsty  god  Mars,  and  that 
to  talk  of  Monday  was  to  pay  idolatrous  homage  to  the  moon. 
To  say  Good -morning  or  Good  evening  was  highly  reprehensi- 
ble ;  for  those  phrases  evidently  imported  that  God  had  made 
bad  days  and  bad  nights.*  A  Christian  was  bound  to  face 
death  itself  rather  than  touch  his  hat  to  the  greatest  of  man- 
kind. When  Fox  was  challenged  to  produce  any  Scriptural 
authority  for  this  dogma,  he  cited  the  passage  in  which  it  is 
written  that  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  were  thrown 
into  the  fiery  furnace  with  their  hats  on ;  and,  if  his  own  narra- 
tive may  be  trusted,  the  Chief  Justice  of  England  was  altogether 
unable  to  answer  this  argument  except  by  crying  out,  "  Take 
him  away,  gaoler.''f  Fox  insisted  much  on  the  not  less  weighty 
argument  that  the  Turks  never  show  their  bare  heads  to  their 
superiors ;  and  he  asked,  with  great  animation,  whether  those 
who  bore  the  noble  name  of  Christians  ought  not  to  surpass 
Turks  in  virtue. $  Bowing  he  strictly  prohibited,  and,  indeed, 
seemed  to  consider  it  as  the  effect  of  Satanical  influence ;  for, 
as  he  observed,  the  woman  in  the  Gospel,  while  she  had  a  spirit 
of  infirmity,  was  bowed  together,  and  ceased  to  bow  as  soon  as 
Divine  power  had  liberated  her  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Evil 
One.§  His  expositions  of  the  sacred  writings  were  of  a  very 

derrmed,  which  light  leadeth  to  peace  and  ]ife  from  death,  which  now  thousands 
do  witness  the  new  teacher  Christ,  him  by  whom  the  world  was  made,  who  reigns 
among  the  children  of  light,  and  with  the  spirit  and  power  of  the  living  God, 
doth  let  them  see  and  know  the  chaff  from  the  wheat,  and  doth  see  that  which 
must  be  shaken  with  that  which  cannot  be  shaken  or  moved,  what  gives  to  see 
that  which  is  shaken  and  moved,  such  as  live  in  the  notions,  opinions,  conceiv- 
ings, and  thoughts,  and  fancies,  these  be  all  shaken  and  comes  to  be  on  heaps, 
which  they  who  witness  those  things  before  mentioned  shaken  and  removed 
walks  in  peace  not  seen  and  discerned  by  them  who  walks  in  those  things  mire- 
moved  and  not  shaken." — A  Warning  to  the  World  that  are  Groping  in  the  Dark, 
by  G.  Fox,  1655. 

*  See  the  piece  entitled,  Concerning  Good  morrow  and  Good  even,  the  World's 
customs,  but  by  the  Light  which  into  the  World  is  come  by  it  made  manifest  to 
all  who  be  in  the  Darkness,  by  G.  Fox,  1657. 

t  Journal,  page  1G6  t  Epistle  from  Harlingeii,  llth  of  6th  month,  1677. 

§  Of  Bowings,  by  G.  Fox,  1657. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  135 

peculiar  kind.  Passages,  which  had  been,  in  the  apprehension 
of  all  the  readers  of  the  Gospels  during  sixteen  centuries,  figur- 
ative, he  construed  literally.  Passages,  which  no  human  being 
before  him  had  ever  understood  in  any  other  than  a  literal  sense, 
he  construed  figuratively.  Thus,  from  those  rhetorical  expres- 
sions in  which  the  duty  of  patience  under  injuries  is  enjoined  he 
deduced  the  doctrine  that  self  defence  against  pirates  and  assas- 
sins is  unlawful.  On  the  other  hand,  the  plain  commands  to 
baptise  with  water,  and  to  partake  of  bread  and  wine  in  com- 
memoration of  the  redemption  of  mankind,  he  pronounced  to  be 
allegorical.  He  long  wandered  from  place  to  place,  teaching 
this  strange  theology,  shaking  like  an  aspen  leaf  in  his  parox- 
ysms of  fanatical  excitement,  forcing  his  way  into  churches,  which 
he  nicknamed  steeple  houses,  interrupting  prayers  and  sermons 
with  clamour  and  scurrility,*  and  pestering  rectors  and  justices 
with  epistles  much  resembling  burlesques  of  those  sublime  odes 
in  which  the  Hebrew  prophets  foretold  the  calamities  of  Babylon 
and  Tyre.f  He  soon  acquired  great  notoriety  by  these  feats. 
His  strange  face,  his  strange  chant,  his  immovable  hat,  and  his 
leather  breeches  were  known  all  over  the  country ;  and  he 
boasts  that,  as  soon  as  the  rumour  was  heard,  "  The  Man  in 
Leather  Breeches  is  coming,"  terror  seized  hypocritical  profes- 
sors, and  hireling  priests  made  haste  to  get  out  of  his  way.J  He 
was  repeatedly  imprisoned  and  set  in  the  stocks,  sometimes 
justly,  for. disturbing  the  public  worship  of  congregations,  and 
sometimes  unjustly,  for  merely  talking  nonsense.  He  soon 
gathered  round  him  a  body  of  disciples,  some  of  whom  went 
beyond  himself  in  absurdity.  He  has  told  us  that  one  of  his 
friends  walked  naked  through  Skipton  declaring  the  truth,  §  and 
that  another  was  divinely  moved  to  go  naked  during  several 
years  to  marketplaces,  and  to  the  houses  of  gentlemen  aiid 
clergymen. |  Fox  complains  bitterly  that  these  pious  acts, 

*  See,  for  example,  the  Journal,  pages  24,  26  and  51. 

t  See,  for  example,  the  Epistle  to  Sawrey,  a  justice  of  the  peace,  in  the  Jour- 
nal, page  86  ;  the  Epistle  to  William  Lampitt,  a  clergyman,  which  begins,  "The 
word  of  the  Lord  to  thee,  oh  Lampitt,"  page  88  ;  and  the  Epistle  to  another 
clergyman,  whom  he  calls  Priest  Tatham,  page  92. 
t  Journal,  page  55.  §  Journal,  page  300.  ||  Ibid,  page  323. 


prompted  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  were  requited  by  an  untoward 
generation  with  hooting,  pelting,  coachvvliipping,  and  horse- 
whipping. But,  though  he  applauded  the  zeal  of  the  sufferers, 
he  did  not  go  quite  to  their  lengths.  He  sometimes,  indeed, 
was  impelled  to  strip  himself  partially.  Thus  he  pulled  off  his 
shoes  and  walked  barefoot  through  Lichfield,  crying,  "  "Woe  to 
the  bloody  cit}-."*  But  it  does  not  appear  that  he  ever  thought 
it  his  duty  to  exhibit  himself  before  the  public  without  that 
decent  garment  from  which  his  popular  appellation  was  derived. 
If  we  form  our  judgment  of  George  Fox  simply  by  looking 
at  his  own  actions  and  writings,  we  shall  see  no  reason  for 
placing  him,  morally  or  intellectually,  above  Ludowick  Mug- 
gleton  or  Joanna  Southcote.  But  it  would  be  most  unjust  to 
rank  the  sect  which  regards  him  as  its  founder  with  the  Mug- 
gletonians  or  the  Southcotians.  It  chanced  that  among  the 
thousands  whom  his  enthusiasm  infected  were  a  few  persons 
whose  abilities  and  attainments  were  of  a  very  different  order 
from  his  own.  Robert  Barclay  was  a  man  of  considerable  parts 
and  learning.  William  Penn,  though  inferior  to  Barclay  in 
both  natural  and  acquired  abilities,  was  a  gentleman  and  a 
scholar.  That  such  men  should  have  become  the  followers  of 
George  Fox  ought  not  to  astonish  any  person  who  remembers 
what  quick,  vigorous,  and  highly  cultivated  intellects  were  in 
our  own  time  duped  by  the  unknown  tongues.  The  truth  is 
that  no  powers  of  mind. constitute  a  security  against  errors  of 
this  description.  Touching  God  and  His  ways  with  man,  the 
highest  human  faculties  can  discover  little  more  than  the  mean- 
est. In  theology  the  interval  is  small  indeed  between  Aristotle 
and  a  child,  between  Archimedes  and  a  naked  savage.  It  is  not 
strange,  therefore,  that  wise  men,  weary  of  investigation,  tor- 
mented by  uncertainty,  longing  to  believe  something,  and  jet 
seeing  objections  to  everything,  should  submit  themselves  abso- 
lutely to  teachers  who,  with  firm  and  undoubting  faith,  lay  claim 
to  a  supernatural  commission.  Thus  we  frequently  see  inquisi- 
tive and  restless  spirits  take  refuge  from  their  own  scepticism 
in  the  bosom  of  a  church  which  pretends  to  infullibility,  and, 

»  Ibid.  paga48 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  137 

after  questioning  the  existence  of  a  Deity,  bring  themselves  to 
worship  a  wafer.  And  thus  it  was  that  Fox  made  some  con- 
verts to  whom  he  was  immeasurably  inferior  in  everything  except 
the  energy  of  his  convictions.  By  these  converts  his  rude  doc- 
trines were  polished  into  a  form  somewhat  less  shocking  to  good 
sense  and  good  taste.  No  proposition  which  he  had  laid  down 
was  retracted.  No  indecent  or  ridiculous  act  which  he  had  done 
or  approved  was  condemned  :  but  what  was  most  grossly  absurd 
in  his  theories  and  practices  was  softened  down,  or  at  least  not 
obtruded  on  the  public:  whatever  could  be  made  to  appear 
specious  was  set  in  the  fairest  light :  his  gibberish  was  trans- 
lated into  English  :  meanings  which  he  would  have  been  quite 
unable  to  comprehend  were  put  on  his  phrases ;  and  his  system, 
so  much  improved  that  he  would  not  have  known  it  again,  was 
defended  by  numerous  citations  from  Pagan  philosophers  and 
Christian  fathers  whose  names  he  had  never  heard.*  Still, 
however,  those  who  had  remodelled  his  theology  continued  to 
profess,  and  doubtless  to  feel,  profound  reverence  for  him  ;  and 
his  crazy  epistles  were  to  the  Jast  received  and  read  with  respect 
in  quaker  meetings  all  over  the  country.  His  death  produced 
a  sensation  which  was  not  confined  to  his  own  disciples.  On  the 
morning  of  the  funeral  a  great  multitude  assembled  round  the 
meeting  house  in  Gracechurch  Street.  Thence  the  corpse  was 
borne  to  the  burial  ground  of  the  sect  near  Bunhill  Fields. 
Several  orators  addressed  the  crowd  which  filled  the  cemetery. 
Penn  was  conspicuous  among  those  disciples  who  committed  the 

*  "  Especially  of  late,"  says  Leslie,  the  keenest  of  all  the  enemies  of  the  sect, 
"  some  of  them  have  made  nearer  advances  towards  Christianity  than  ever 
before  ;  and  among  them  the  ingenious  Mr.  Penn  has  of  late  refined  some  of  their 
gross  notions,  and  brought  them  into  some  form,  and  has  made  them  speak  sense 
and  English,  of  both  which  George  Fox,  their  first  and  great  apostle,  was  totally 
ignorant They  endeavour  all  they  can  to  make  it  appear  that  their  doc- 
trine was  uniform  from  the  beginning,  and  that  there  has  been  no  alteration  ; 
and  therefore  they  take  upon  them  to  defend  all  the  writings  of  George  Fox,  and 
others  of  the  first  Quakers,  and  turn  and  wind  them  to  make  them  (but  it  is 
impossible)  agree  with  what  they  teach  now  at  this  day."  (The  Snake  in  the 
Grass,  3d  ed.  169*.  Introduction.)  Leslie  was  always  more  civil  to  his  brother 
Jacobite  Penn  than  to  any  other  Quaker.  Penn  himself  says  of  his  master,  "  As 
abruptly  and  brokenly  as  sometimes  his  sentences  would  fall  from  him  about 
«livin«  things,  it  is  well  known  they  were  often  as  texts  to  many  fairer  declar- 
ations." That  is  to  say,  George  Fox  talked  nonsense,  and  home  of  hL>  friends 
paraphrased  it  into  sense. 


venerable  corpse  to  the  earth.  The  ceremony  had  scarcely 
been  finished  when  he  learned  that  warrants  were  out  against 
him.  He  instantly  took  flight,  and  remained  many  months  con- 
cealed from  the  public  eye.* 

A  short  time  after  his  disappearance,  Sidney  received  from 
him  a  strange  communication.  Penn  begged  for  an  interview, 
but  insisted  on  a  promise  that  he  should  be  suffered  to  return 
unmolested  to  his  hidingplace.  Sidney  obtained  the  royal  per- 
mission to  make  an  appointment  on  these  terms.  Penn  came 
to  the  rendezvous,  and  spoke  at  length  in  his  own  defence. 
He  declared  that  he  was  a  faithful  subject  of  King  William  and 
Queen  Mary,  and  that,  if  he  knew  of  any  design  against  them, 
he  would  discover  it.  Departing  from  his  Yea  and  Nay,  he 
protested,  as  in  the  presence  of  God,  that  he  knew  of  no  plot, 
and  that  he  did  not  believe  that  there  was  any  plot,  unless  the 
ambitious  projects  of  the  French  government  might  be  called 
plots.  Sidney,  amazed  probably  by  hearing  a  person,  who  had 
such  an  abhorrence  of  lies  that  he  would  not  use  the  common 
forms  of  civility,  and  such  an  abhorrence  of  oaths  that  he  would 
not  kiss  the  book  in  a  court  of  justice,  tell  something  very  like 
a  lie,  and  confirm  it  by  something  very  like  an  oath,  asked  how, 
if  there  were  really  no  plot,  the  letters  and  minutes  which  had 
been  found  on  Ashton  were  to  be  explained.  This  question 
Penn  evaded.  "  If,"  he  said,  "  1  could  only  see  the  King,  I 
would  confess  everything  to  him  freely.  I  would  tell  him  much 
that  it  would  be  important  for  him  to  know.  It  is  only  in  that 
way  that  I  can  be  of  service  to  him.  A  witness  for  the  Crown 
I  cannot  be :  for  my  conscience  will  not  suffer  me  to  be  sworn." 

*  In  the  life  of  Penn  which  is  prefixed  to  his  works,  we  are  told  tint  the  war- 
rants were  issued  on  the  6th  of  January  1G90-1,  in  consequence  of  an  accusation 
backed  by  the  oath  of  William  Fuller,  who  is  truly  designated  as  a  wretch,  a 
cheat,  and  an  impostor  ;  and  this  story  is  repeated  by  Mr.  Clarksoii.  It  is,  how- 
ever, certainly  false.  Caermarthen,  writing  to  William  on  the  3d  of  February, 
says  that  there  was  then  only  one  witness  against  Penn,  and  that  Preston  was 
that  one  witness.  It  is  therefore  evident  that  Fuller  was  not  the  informer  on 
ijdiose  oath  the  warrant  against  Penn  was  issued.  In  fact  Fuller  appears,  from 
his  Life  of  Himself,  to  have  been  then  at  the  Hague  ;  nor  is  there  any  reason  to 
believe  that  he  ever  pretended  to  know  anything  about  Preston's  plot.  When 
Nottingham  wrote  to  William  on  the  2Gtli  of  June,  a  second  witness  against 
Penn  had  como  forward. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  139 

He  assured  Sidney  that  the  most  formidable  enemies  of  the 
government  were  the  discontented  Whigs.  "  The  Jacobites  are 
not  dangerous.  There  is  not  a  man  among  them  who  has  com- 
mon understanding.  Some  persons  who  came  over  from  Hol- 
land with  the  King  are  much  more  to  be  dreaded."  It  does 
not  appear  that  Penn  mentioned  any  names.  He  was  suffered 
to  depart  in  safety.  No  active  search  was  made  for  him.  He 
lay  hid  in  London  during  some  months,  and  then  stole  down  to 
the  coast  of  Sussex  and  made  his  escape  to  France.  After 
about  three  years  of  wandering  and  lurking  he,  by  the  mediation 
of  some  eminent  men,  who  overlooked  his  faults  for  the  sake  of 
his  good  qualities,  made  his  peace  with  the  government,  and 
again  ventured  to  resume  his  ministrations.  The  return  which 
he  made  for  the  lenity  with  which  he  had  been  treated  does 
not  much  raise  his  character.  Scarcely  had  he  again  begun  to 
harangue  in  public  about  the  unlawfulness  of  war,  when  he  sent 
a  message  earnestly  exhorting  James  to  make  an  immediate  de- 
scent on  England  with  thirty  thousand  men.* 

Some  months  passed  before  the  fate  of  Preston  was  decided. 
After  several  respites,  the  government,  convinced  that,  though 
he  had  told  much,  he  could  tell  more,  fixed  a  day  for  his  execu- 
tion, and  ordered  the  sheriffs  to  have  the  machinery  of  death  in 
readiness. f  But  he  was  again  respited,  and,  after  a  delay  of 
some  weeks,  obtained  a  pardon,  which,  however,  extended  only 
to  his  life,  and  left  his  property  subject  to  all  the  consequences 
of  his  attainder.  As  soon  as  he  was  set  at  liberty  he  gave  new 

*  Sidney  to  William,  Feb.  27,  1690-1.  The  letter  is  in  Dalrymple's  Appendix, 
Part  II.  book  vi.  Narcissus  Luttrell,  in  his  Diary  for  September  1691,  mentions 
Penn's  escape  from  Shoreham  to  France.  On  the  5th  of  December  1693  Narcissus 
made  the  following  entry  :  "  William  Penn  the  Quaker,  having  for  some  time 
absconded,  and  having  compromised  the  matters  against  him,  appears  now  in 
public,  and,  on  Friday  last,  held  forth  at  the  Bull  and  Mouth,  in  Saint  Martin's." 
On  December  18-28, 1693  was  drawn  up  at  Saint  Germains,  under  Melfort's  direc- 
tion, a  paper  containing  a  passage  of  which  the  following  is  a  translation  :  "  Mr. 
Penn  says  that  Your  Majesty  has  had  several  occasions,  but  never  any  so  favour- 
able as  the  present ;  and  he  hopes  that  Your  Majesty  will  be  earnest  with  the 
most  Christian  King  not  to  neglect  it :  that  a  descent  with  thirty  thousand  men 
will  not  only  reestablish  Your  Majesty,  but  according  to  all  appearance  break  the 
league."  This  paper  is  among  the  Nairne  MSS.,  and  was  translated  by  Mac- 

t  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary,  April  11, 1891. 


cause  of  offence  and  suspicion,  and  was  again  arrested,  examined, 
and  sent  to  prison.*  At  length  he  was  permitted  to  retire,  pur- 
sued by  the  hisses  and  curses  of  both  parties,  to  a  lonely  manor 
house  in  the  North  Riding  of  Yorkshire.  There,  at  least,  he 
had  not  to  endure  the  scornful  looks  of  old  associates  who  had 
once  thought  him  a  man  of  dauntless  courage  and  spotless  hon- 
our, but  who  now  pronounced  that  he  was  at  best  a  meanspirited 
coward,  and  hinted  their  suspicions  that  he  had  been  from  the 
beginning  a  spy  and  a  trepan.f  He  employed  the  short  and 
sad  remains  of  his  life  in  turning  the  Consolation  of  Boethius 
into  English.  The  translation  was  published  after  the  transla- 
tor's death.  It  is  remarkable  chiefly  on  account  of  some  very 
unsuccessful  attempts  to  enrich  our  versification  with  new  me- 
tres, and  on  account  of  the  allusions  with  which  the  preface  is 
filled.  Under  the  thin  veil  of  figurative  language,  Preston  ex- 
hibited to  the  public  compassion  or  contempt  his  own  blighted 
fame  and  broken  heart.  He  complained  that  the  tribunal  which 
had  sentenced  him  to  death  had  dealt  with  him  more  leniently 
than  his  former  friends,  and  that  many,  who  had  never  been 
tried  by  temptations  like  his,  had  very  cheaply  earned  a  repu- 
tation for  courage  by  sneering  at  his  poltroonery,  and  by  bid- 
ding defiance  at  a  distance  to  horrors  which,  when  brought  near, 
subdue  even  a  constant  mind. 

The  spirit  of  the  Jacobites,  which  had  been  quelled  for  a  time 
by  the  detection  of  Preston's  plot,  was  revived  by  the  fall  of 
Mons.  The  joy  of  the  whole  party  was  boundless.  The  rion- 
juring  priests  ran  backwards  and  forwards  between  Sam's  Coffee 
House  and  Westminster  Hall,  spreading  the  praises  of  Lewis,  and 
laughing  at  the  miserable  issue  of  the  deliberations  of  the  great  Con- 
gress. In  the  Park  the  malecontents  were  in  the  habit  of  muster- 
ing daily,  and  one  avenue  was  called  the  Jacobite  walk.  They 
now  came  to  this  rendezvous  in  crowds,  wore  their  biggest  looks, 
and  talked  sedition  in  their  loudest  tones.  The  most  conspicuous 

*  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary,  August  1691 ;  Letter  from  Vernon  to  Wharton, 
Oct.  17,  1691,  in  the  Bodleian. 

t  The  opinion  of  the  Jacobites  appears  from  a  letter  which  is  among  the 
archives  of  the  French  War  Office.  It  was  written  in  London  on  the  25th  of 
June  1691. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  141 

among  these  swaggerers  was  Sir  John  Fenwick,  who  had,  in  the 
late  reign,  been  high  in  royal  favour  and  in  military  command, 
and  was  now  an  indefatigable  agitator  and  conspirator.  In  his 
exultation  he  forgot  the  courtesy  which  man  owes  to  woman. 
He  had  more  than  once  made  himself  conspicuous  by  his  incivil- 
ity to  the  Queen.  He  now  ostentatiously  put  himself  in  her 
way  when  she  took  her  airing,  and  while  all  around  him  uncov- 
ered and  bowed  low,  gave  her  a  rude  stare,  and  cocked  his  hat 
in  her  face.  The  affront  was  not  only  brutal,  but  cowardly. 
For  the  law  had  provided  no  punishment  for  mere  impertinence 
however  gross  ;  and  the  King  was  the  only  gentleman  and  sol- 
dier in  the  kingdom  who  could  not  protect  his  wife  from  con- 
tumely with  his  sword.  All  that  the  Queen  could  do  was  to  order 
the  parkkeepers  not  to  admit  Sir  John  again  within  the  gates. 
But,  long  after  her  death,  a  day  came  when  he  had  reason  to 
wish  that  he  had  restrained  his  insolence.  He  found,  by  terri- 
ble proof,  that  of  all  the  Jacobites,  the  most  desperate  assassins 
not  excepted,  he  was  the  only  one  for  whom  William  felt  an 
intense  personal  aversion.* 

A  few  days  after  this  event  the  rage  of  the  malecontents 
began  to  flame  more  fiercely  than  ever.  The  detection  of  the 
conspiracy  of  which  Preston  was  the  chief  had  brought  on  a 
crisis  in  ecclesiastical  affairs.  The  nonjuring  bishops  had,  during 
the  year  which  followed  their  deprivation,  continued  to  reside  in 
the  official  mansions  which  had  once  been  their  own.  Burnet 
had,  at  Mary's  request,  laboured  to  effect  a  compromise.  His 
direct  interference  would  probably  have  done  more  harm  than 
good.  He  therefore  judiciously  employed  the  agency  of  Roches- 
ter, who  stood  higher  in  the  estimation  of  the  nonjurors  than 
any  statesman  who  was  not  a  nonjuror,  and  of  Trevor,  who, 
worthless  as  he  was,  had  considerable  influence  with  the  High 
Church  party.  Sancroft  and  his  brethren  were  informed  that, 
if  they  would  consent  to  perform  their  spiritual  duty,  to  ordain,  to 
institute,  to  confirm,  and  to  watch  over  the  faith  and  the  morality 

*  "Welwood's  Mflrcurius  Reformatus,  April  11,  24,  1691  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell  a 
Diary,  April  1691  ;  L'Hermitage  to  the  States  General,  June  19-29,  1696  ;  Calamy'a 
Life.  The  story  of  Feiiwick's  rudeness  to  Mary  is  told  in  different  ways.  1  have 
followed  what  seems  to  me  the  most  authentic,  and  what  id  certainly  the  least 
disgraceful,  version. 


of  the  priesthood,  a  bill  should  be  brought  into  Parliament  to 
excuse  them  from  taking  the  oaths.*  This  offer  was  imprudently 
liberal :  but  those  to  whom  it  was  made  could  not  consistently 
accept  it.  For  in  the  ordination  service,  and  indeed  in  almost 
every  service  of  the  Church,  William  and  Mary  were  designated 
as  King  and  Queen.  The  only  promise  that  could  be  obtained 
from  the  deprived  prelates  was  that  they  would  live  quietly; 
and  even  this  promise  they  had  not  all  kept.  One  of  them  at 
least  had  been  guilty  of  treason  aggravated  by  impiety.  He 
had,  under  the  strong  fear  of  being  butchered  by  the  populace, 
declared  that  he  abhorred  the  thought  of  calling  in  the  aid 
of  France,  and  had  invoked  God  to  attest  the  sincerity  of  this 
declaration.  Yet,  a  short  time  after,  he  had  been  detected  in 
plotting  to  bring  a  French  army  into  England  ;  and  he  had 
written  to  assure  the  Court  of  Saint  Germains  that  he  was  act- 
ing in  concert  with  his  brethren,  and  especially  with  Sancroft. 
The  Whigs  called  loudly  for  severity.  Even  the  Tory  coun- 
sellors of  William  owned  that  indulgence  had  been  carried  to 
the  extreme  point.  They  made,  however,  a  last  attempt  to 
mediate.  "  Will  you  and  your  brethren,"  said  Trevor  to  Lloyd, 
the  nonjuring  Bishop  of  Norwich,  "  disown  all  connection  with 
Doctor  Turner  and  declare  that  what  he  has  in  his  letters  im- 
puted to  you  is  false  ?  "  Lloyd  evaded  the  question.  It  was 
now  evident  that  William's  forbearance  had  only  emboldened 
the  adversaries  whom  he  had  hoped  to  conciliate.  Even  Caer- 
marthen,  even  Nottingham,  declared  that  it  was  high  time  to  fill 
the  vacant  sees.f 

Tillotson  was  nominated  to  the  Archbishopric,  and  was  con- 
secrated on  Whitsunday,  in  the  church  of  Saint  Mary  Le  Bow. 
Compton,  cruelly  mortified,  refused  to  bear  any  part  in  the  cere- 
mony. His  place  was  supplied  by  Mew,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
who  was  assisted  by  Burnet,  Stillingfleet,  and  Hough.  The  con- 
gregation was  the  most  splendid  that  had  been  seen  in  any 
place  of  worship  since  the  coronation.  The  Queen's  drawing- 

*  Burnet,  ii.  71. 

t  Lloyd  to  Sancroft,  Jan.  24, 1691.    The  letter  is  among  the  Tanner  MSS.,  and 
Is  printed  ill  the  Life  of  Keii  by  a  layman. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  143 

room  was,  on  that  day,  deserted.  Most  of  the  peers  who  were 
in  towii  met  in  the  morning  at  Bedford  House,  and  went  thence 
in  procession  to  Cheapside.  Norfolk,  Caermarthen,  and  Dorset 
were  conspicuous  in  the  throng.  Devonshire,  who  was  im- 
patient to  see  his  woods  at  Chatsworth  in  their  summer  beauty, 
had  deferred  his  departure  in  order  to  mark  his  respect  for  Til- 
lotson.  The  crowd  which  lined  the  streets  greeted  the  new 
primate  warmly.  For  he  had,  during  many  years,  preached  in 
the  City  ;  and  his  eloquence,  his  probity,  and  the  singular  gentle- 
ness of  his  temper  and  manners,  had  made  him  the  favourite  of 
the  Londoners.*  But  the  congratulations  and  applauses  of  his 
friends  could  not  drown  the  roar  of  execration  which  the  Jaco- 
bites set  up.  According  to  them,  he  was  a  thief  who  had  not 
entered  by  the  door,  but  had  climbed  over  the  fences.  He  was 
a  hireling  whose  own  the  sheep  were  not,  who  had  usurped  the 
crook  of  the  good  shepherd,  and  who  might  well  be  expected  to 
leave  the  flock  at  the  mercy  of  every  wolf.  Pie  was  an  Arian, 
a  Socinian,  a  Deist,  an  Atheist.  He  had  cozened  the  world  by 
fine  phrases,  and  by  a  show  of  moral  goodness  :  but  he  was  in 
truth  a  far  more  dangerous  enemy  of  the  Church  than  he  could 
have  been  if  he  had  openly  proclaimed  himself  a  disciple  of 
Hobbes,  and  had  lived  as  loosely  as  Wilmot.  He  had  taught 
the  fine  gentlemen  and  ladies  who  admired  his  style,  and  who 
were  constantly  seen  round  his  pulpit,  that  they  might  be  very 
good  Christians,  and  yet  might  believe  the  account  of  the  Fall 
in  the  Book  of  Genesis  to  be  allegorical.  Indeed  they  might 
easily  be  as  good  Christians  as  he  :  for  he  had  never  been  chris- 
tened :  his  parents  were  Anabaptists :  he  had  lost  their  religion 
when  he  was  a  boy ;  and  he  had  never  found  another. 
In  ribald  lampoons  he  was  nicknamed  Undipped  John.  The 
parish  register  of  his  baptism  was  produced  in  vain.  His 
enemies  still  continued  to  complain  that  they  had  lived  to  see 
fathers  of  the  Church  who  never  were  her  children.  They 

*  London  Gazette,  June  1,  1691 ;  Birch's  Life  of  Tillotson ;  Congratulatory 
Poem  to  the  Reverend  Dr.  Tillotson  on  his  promotion,  1691  ;  Vernon  to  Whar- 
ton.  May  28  and  30,  1691.  These  letters  to  Wharton  are  in  the  Bodleian  Library 
and  form  part  of  a  highly  curious  collection  which  was  kindly  pointed  out  to  ma 
by  Dr.  Bandinel. 


made  up  a  story  that  the  Queen  had  felt  bitter  remorse  for  the 
great  crime  by  which  she  had  obtained  a  throne,  that  in  her 
agony  she  had  applied  to  Tillotson,  and  that  he  had  comforted 
her  by  assuring  her  that  the  punishment  of  the  wicked  in  a 
future  state  would  not  be  eternal.*  The  Archbishop's  mind 
was  naturally  of  almost  feminine  delicacy,  and  had  been  rather 
softened  than  braced  by  the  habits  of  a  long  life,  during  which 
contending  sects  and  factions  had  agreed  in  speaking  of  his 
abilities  with  admiration  and  of  his  character  with  esteem.  The 
storm  of  obloquy  which  he  had  to  face  for  the  first  time  at  more 
than  sixty  years  of  age  was  too  much  for  him.  His  spirits  de- 
clined: his  health  gave  way  :  yet  he  neither  flinched  from  his 
duty  nor  attempted  to  revenge  himself  on  his  persecutors.  A 
few  days  after  his  consecration,  some  persons  were  seized  while 
dispersing  libels  in  which  he  was  reviled.  The  law  officers  of 
the  Crown  proposed  to  file  informations  ;  but  he  insisted  that 
nobody  should  be  punished  on  his  account. f  Once,  when  he 
had  company  with  him,  a  sealed  packet  was  put  into  his  hands : 
he  opened  it,  and  out  fell  a  mask.  His  friends  were  shocked 
and  incensed  by  this  cowardly  insult :  but  the  Archbishop,  try- 
ing to  conceal  his  anguish  by  a  smile,  pointed  to  the  pamphlets 
which  covered  his  table,  arid  said  that  the  reproach  which  the 
emblem  of  the  mask  was  intended  to  convey  might  be  called 
gentle  when  compared  with  other  reproaches  which  he  daily 
had  to  endure.  After  his  death  a  bundle  of  the  savage  lampoons 
which  the  non jurors  had  circulated  against  him  was  found 
among  his  papers  with  this  indorsement ;  "  I  pray  God  forgive 
them  :  I  do."t 

*  Birch's  Life  of  Tillotson  ;  Leslie's  Charge  of  Socinianism  against  Dr.  Tillot- 
son considered  by  a  True  Son  of  the  Church,  1695  ;   Hicks's  Discourses  upon  Dr. 
Unmet  and  Dr.  Tillotson,  1695.    Catalogue  of  Books,  of  the  Newest  Fashion,  to 
be  Sold  by  Auction  at  the  Whig's  Coffee  House,  evidently  printed  in  169X    More 
than  sixty  years  later  Johnson  described  a  sturdy  Jacobite  as  firmly  convinced 
that  Tillotson  died  au  Atheist  ;  Idler,  No.  10.    A  Latin  epitaph  on  the  Church  of 
England,  written  soon  after  Tillotson's  consecration,  ends  thus  : 
"  Oh  Miseranda  Ecclesia.  cui  Rex  Batavns.  et  Patriarcha  non  baptizatus."    In  a 
poem  called  the  Eucharisticon,  which  appeared  in  1692,  are  these  lines : 
"  TTnblest  and  unbaptised  this  Church's  son 
Hath  all  his  Mother's  children  half  undone." 

t  Tillotson  to  Lady  Russell,  June  23.  1691. 

t  Uirch's  Life  of  Tillotson;  Memorials  of  Tillotson  by  his  pupil  John  Beard 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  145 

The  deposed  primate  was  of  a  less  gentle  nature.  He  seems 
to  Lave  been  also  under  a  complete  delusion  as  to  his  own  im- 
portance. The  immense  popularity  which  he  had  enjoyed  three 
years  before,  the  prayers  and  tears  of  the  multitudes  who  had 
plunged  into  the  Thames  to  implore  his  blessing,  the  enthusiasm 
with  which  the  sentinels  of  the  Tower  had  drunk  his  health 
under  the  windows  of  his  prison,  the  mighty  roar  of  joy  which 
had  risen  from  Palace  Yard  on  the  morning  of  his  acquittal,  the 
triumphant  night  when  every  window  from  Hyde. Park  to  Mile 
End  had  exhibited  seven  candles,  the  midmost  and  tallest  emble- 
matical of  him,  were  still  fresh  in  his  recollection  ;  nor  had  he 
the  wisdom  to  perceive  that  all  this  homage  had  been  paid,  not 
to  his  person,  but  to  that  religion  and  to  those  liberties  of  which 
he  was,  for  a  moment,  the  representative.  The  extreme  tender- 
ness with  which  the  new  government  had  long  persisted  in 
treating  him  had  confirmed  him  in  his  error.  That  a  succession 
of  conciliatory  messages  was  sent  to  him  from  Kensington  ;  that 
he  was  offered  terms  so  liberal  as  to  be  scarcely  consistent  with 
the  dignity  of  the  Crown  and  the  welfare  of  the  State ;  that  his 
cold  and  uncourteous  answers  could  not  tire  out  the  royal 
indulgence  ;  that,  in  spite  of  the  loud  clamours  of  the  Whigs, 
and  of  the  provocations  daily  given  by  the  Jacobites,  he  was  re- 
siding, fifteen  months  after  deprivation,  in  the  metropolitan  pal- 
ace ;  these  things  seemed  to  him  to  indicate,  not  the  lenity,  but 
the  timidity  of  the  ruling  powers.  He  appears  to  have  flattered 
himself  that  they  would  not  dare  to  eject  him.  The  news,  there- 
fore, that  his  see  had  been  filled,  threw  him  into  a  passion  which 
lasted  as  long  as  his  life,  and  which  hurried  him  into  many  fool- 
ish and  unseemly  actions.  Tillotson,  as  soon  as  he  was  appoint- 
ed, went  to  Lambeth  in  the  hope  that  he  might  be  able,  by 
courtesy  and  kindness,  to  soothe  the  irritation  of  which  he  was 
the  innocent  cause.  He  staid  long  in  the  antechamber,  and_sent 
in  his  name  by  several  servants  :  but  Sancroft  would  not  even 
return  an  answer.*  Three  weeks  passed  ;  and  still  the  deprived 

more  ;  Sherlock's  Sermon  preached  in  the  Temple  Church  on  the  death  of  Queen 
Mary,  1C04-5. 

*  "Wharton's  Collectanea,  quoted  iu  Birch's  Life  of  Tillotson. 

VOL.  IV— 10 


Archbishop  showed  no  disposition  to  move.  At  length  he  re- 
ceived an  order  intimating  to  him  the  royal  pleasure  that  he 
should  quit  the  dwelling  which  had  long  ceased  to  be  his  own, 
and  iu  which  he  was  only  a  guest.  He  resented  this  order  bit- 
terly, and  declared  that  he  would  not  obey  it.  He  would  stay  till 
he  was  pulled  out  by  the  Sheriff's  officers.  He  would  defend  him- 
self at  law  as  long  as  he  could  do  so  without  putting  in  any  plea 
acknowledging  the  authority  of  the  usurpers.*  The  case  was 
so  clear  that  he  could  not,  by  any  artifice  of  chicanery,  obtain 
more  than  a  short  delay.  When  judgment  had  been  given 
against  him,  he  left  the  palace,  but  directed  his  steward  to  re- 
tain possession.  The  consequence  was  that  the  steward  was 
taken  into  custody  and  heavily  fined.  Tillotson  sent  a  kind 
message  to  assure  his  predecessor  that  the  fine  should  not  be  ex- 
acted. But  Bancroft  was  determined  to  have  a  grievance,  and 
would  pay  the  money .f 

From  that  time  the  great  object  of  the  narrowminded  and 
peevish  old  man  was  to  {.ear  in  pieces  the  Church  of  which  he  had 
been  the  chief  minister.  It  was  in  vain  that  some  of  those  non- 
jurors,  whose  virtue,  ability,  and  learning  were  the  glory  of  their 
party,  remonstrated  against  his  design.  "  Our  deprivation," — 
such  was  the  reasoning  of  Ken, — "  is,  in  the  sight  of  God,  a 
nullity.  We  are,  and  shall  be,  till  we  die  or  resign,  the  true 
Bishops  of  our  sees.  Those  who  assume  our  titles  and  functions 
will  incur  the  guilt  of  schism.  But  with  us,  if  we  act  as  be- 
comes us,  the  schism  will  die ;  and  in  the  next  generation  the 
unity  of  the  Church  will  be  restored.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
we  consecrate  Bishops  to  succeed  us,  the  breach  may  last  through 
ages  :  and  we  shall  be  justly  held  accountable,  not  indeed  for  its 
origin,  but  for  its  continuance."  These  considerations  ought,  on 
Sancroft's  own  principles,  to  have  had  decisive  weight  with  him  : 
but  his  angry  passions  prevailed.  Ken  quietly  retired  from  the 
venerable  palace  of  Wells.  He  had  done,  he  said,  with  strife, 
and  should  henceforth  vent  his  feelings,  not  in  disputes,  but  in 

*  Wharton's  Collectanea,  quoted  in  D'Oyly's  Life  of  Saiicroft ;  Narcissus 
LuttrcU's  Diary. 

t  The  Lambert  MS.  quoted  in  D'Oyly's  Life  of  Bancroft ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's 
Diary  ;  Veruou  to  Whailon,  June  9,  11, 1691. 

WILLIAM    AND    MAKT.  147 

hymns.  His  charities  to  the  unhappy  of  all  persuasions,  es- 
pecially to  the  followers  of  Monmouth  and  to  the  persecuted 
Huguenots,  had  been  so  large  that  his  own  private  fortune  con- 
sisted of  but  seven  hundred  pounds,  and  of  a  library  which  he 
could  not  bear  to  sell.  But  Thomas  Thynne,  Viscount  Weyrnouth, 
though  not  a  nonjuror,  did  himself  honour  by  offering  to  the 
most  virtuous  of  the  nonjurors  a  tranquil  and  dignified  asylum 
in  the  princely  mansion  of  Longleat.  There  Ken  passed  a  hap- 
py and  honoured  old  age,  during  which  he  never  regretted  the 
sacrifice  which  he  had  made  to  what  he  thought  his  duty,  and 
yet  constantly  became  more  and  more  indulgent  to  those  whose 
views  of  duty  differed  from  his.* 

Sancroft  was  of  a  very  different  temper.  Pie  had,  indeed, 
as  little  to  complain  of  as  any  man  whom  a  revolution  has  ever 
hurled  down  from  an  exalted  station.  He  had,  at  Fressingfield 
in  Suffolk,  a  patrimonial  estate,  which,  together  with  what  he 
had  saved  during  a  primacy  of  twelve  years,  enabled  him  to 
live,  not  indeed  as  he  had  lived  when  he  was  the  first  peer  of 
Parliament,  but  in  the  style  of  an  opulent  country  gentleman. 
He  retired  to  his  hereditary  abode  ;  and  there  he,  passed  the 
rest  of  his  life  in  brooding  over  his  wrongs.  Aversion  to  the 
Established  Church  became  as  strong  a  feeling  in  him  as  it  had 
been  in  Martin  Marprelate.  He  considered  all  who  remained 
in  communion  with  her  as  heathens  and  publicans.  He  nick- 
named Tillotson  the  Mufti.  In  the  room  which  was  used  as  a 
chapel  at  Fressingfield  no  person  who  had  taken  the  oaths,  or 
who  attended  the  ministry  of  any  divine  who  had  taken  the 
oaths,  was  suffered  to  partake  of  the  sacred  bread  and  wine.  A 
distinction,  however,  was  made  between  two  classes  of  offenders. 
A  layman  who  remained  in  communion  with  the  Church  was 
permitted  to  be  present  while  prayers  were  read,  and  was  ex- 
cluded only  from  the  highest  of  Christian  mysteries.  But  with 
clergymen  who  had  sworn  allegiance  to  the  Sovereigns  in  pos- 
session Sancroft  would  not  even  pray.  He  took  care  that  the 

*  See  a  letter  of  R.  Nelson,  dated  Feb.  21, 1709-10,  in  the  appendix  to  N. 
Marshall's  Defence  of  our  Constitution  in  Church  aiid  Slate,  1717  ',  Hawkins's 
Life  of  Keu  ;  Life  of  Ken  by  a  Layman. 


rule  which  he  had  laid  down  should  be  widely  known,  and,  hoth 
by  precept  and  by  example,  taught  his  followers  to  look  on  the 
most  orthodox,  the  most  devout,  the  most  virtuous,  of  those 
who  acknowledged  William's  authority  with  a  feeling  similar 
to  that  with  which  the  Jew  regarded  the  Samaritan.*  Such 
intolerance  would  have  been  reprehensible,  even  in  a  man  con- 
tending for  a  great  principle.  But  Saucroft  was  contending  for 
nothing  more  than  a  name.  He  was  the  author  of  the  scheme 
of  Regency.  He  was  perfectly  willing  to  transfer  the  whole 
kingly  power  from  James  to  William.  The  question,  which,  to 
this  smallest  and  sourest  of  minds,  seemed  important  enough  "to 
justify  the  excommunicating  of  ten  thousand  priests  and  of  five 
millions  of  laymen,  was  merely  whether  the  magistrate  to  whom 
the  whole  kingly  power  was  transferred  should  assume  the 
kingly  title.  Nor  could  Sancroft  bear  to  think  that  the  ani- 
mosity which  he  had  excited  would  die  with  himself.  Having 
done  all  that  he  could  to  make  the  feud  bitter,  he  determined 
to  make  it  eternal.  A  list  of  the  divines  who  had  been  ejected 
from  their  benefices  was  sent  by  him  to  Saint  Germains  with  a 
request  that  James  would  nominate  two  who  might  keep  up  the 
episcopal  succession.  James,  well  pleased,  doubtless,  to  see 
another  sect  added  to  that  multitude.of  sects  which  he  had  been 
taught  to  consider  as  the  reproach  of  Protestantism,  named  two 
fierce  and  uncompromising  nonjurors,  Hickes  and  Wagstaffe, 
the  former  recommended  by  Sancroft,  the  latter  recommended 
by  Lloyd,  the  ejected  Bishop  of  Norwich. f  Such  was  the 
origin  of  a  schismatical  hierarchy,  which,  having,  during  a  short 
time,  excited  alarm,  soon  sa,nk  into  obscurity  and  contempt,  but 
which,  in  obscurity  and  contempt,  continued  to  drag  on  a  languid 
existence  during  several  generations.  The  little  Church  with- 
out temples,  revenues,  or  dignities,  was  even  more  distracted  by 
internal  disputes  than  the  great  Church,  which  retained  posses- 
sion of  cathedrals,  tithes,  and  peerages.  Some  nonjurors  leaned 
towards  the  ceremonial  of  Borne :  others  would  not  tolerate  the 

*  See  a  paper  dictated  by  him  on  the  15th  of  Nov.  1693,  in  Wagstaffe's  Letter 
from  Suffolk. 

t  Kettlewell's  Life,  iii.  59. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  149 

slightest  departure  from  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  Altar 
was  set  up  against  altar.  One  phantom  prelate  pronounced  the 
consecration  of  another  phantom'  prelate  uncanonical.  At 
length  the  pastors  were  left  absolutely  without  flocks.  One  of , 
these  Lords  spiritual  very  wisely  turned  surgeon  :  another  de- 
serted what  he  had  called  his  see,  and  settled  in  Ireland ;  and 
at  length,  in  1805,  the  last  Bishop  of  that  society  which  had 
proudly  claimed  to  be  the  only  true  Church  of  England  dropped 
unnoticed  into  the  grave.* 

The  places  of  the  Bishops  who  had  been  ejected  with  San- 
croft  were  filled  in  a  manner  creditable  to  the  government. 
Patrick  succeeded  the  traitor  Turner.  Fowler  went  to  Glou- 
cester. Richard  Cumberland,  an  aged  divine,  who  had  no 
interest  at  Court,  and  whose  only  recommendations  were  his 
piety  and  his  erudition,  was  astonished  by  learning  from  a  news- 
letter which  he  found  on  the  table  of  a  coffeehouse  that  he  had 
been  nominated  to  the  see  of  Peterborough.!  Beveridge  was 
selected  to  succeed  Ken :  he  consented  :  and  the  appointment 
was  actually  announced  in  the^  London  Gazette.  But  Beve- 
ridge, though  an  honest,  was  not  a  strongminded  man.  Some 
Jacobites  expostulated  with  him ;  some  reviled  him  :  his  heart 
failed  him ;  and  he  retracted.  While  the  noujurors  were  re- 
joicing in  this  victory,  he  changed  his  mind  again  ;  but  too  late. 
He  had  by  his  irresolution  forfeited  the  favour  of  William,  and 
never  obtained  a  mitre  till  Anne  was  on  the  throne.  J  The 
bishopric  of  Bath  and  Wells  was  bestowed  on  Richard  Kidder, 
a  man  of  considerable  attainments  and  blameless  character,  but 
suspected  of  a  leaning  towards  Presbyterianism.  About  the 
same  time  Sharp,  the  highest  churchman  that  had  been  zealous 

*  See  D'Oyly's  Life  of  Bancroft,  Hallam's  Constitutional  History,  and  Dr. 
Lathbury's  History  of  the  Nonjurors. 

t  See  the  autobiography  of  his  descendant  and  namesake  the  dramatist.  See 
also  Onslow's  note  on  Burnet,  ii.  76. 

J  A  vindication  of  their  Majesties'  authority  to  fill  the  sees  of  the  deprived 
Bishops,  May  20, 1691 ;  London  Gazette,  April  27,  and  June  15. 1691 ;  Narcissus 
Luttrell's  Diary,  May  1691.  Among  the  Tanner  MSS.  are  two  letters  from  Jaco- 
bites to  Beveridge,  one  mild  and  decent,  the  other  scurrilous  even  beyond  the 
ordinary  scurrility  of  the  nonjurors.  The  f onner  will  be  found  in  the  life  of 
Ken  by  a  Layman. 


for  the  Comprehension,  and  the  lowest  churchman  that  felt  a 
scruple  about  succeeding  a  deprived  prelate,  accepted  the  Arch- 
bishopric of  York,  vacant  by  the  death  of  Lamplugh.* 

In  consequence  of  the  elevation  of  Tillotson  to  the  See  of 
Canterbury,  the  Deanery  of  Saint  Paul's  became  vacant.  As 
soon  as  the  name  of  the  new  Dean  was  known,  a  clamour  broke 
forth  such  as  perhaps  no  ecclesiastical  appointment  has  ever  pro- 
duced, a  clamour  made  up  of  yells  of  hatred,  of  hisses  of  contempt, 
and  of  shouts  of  triumphant  and  half  insulting  welcome  :  for 
the  new  Dean  was  William  Sherlock. 

The  story  of  his  conversion  deserves  to  be  fully  told  :  for  it 
throws  great  light  on  the  character  of  the  parties  which  then 
divided  the  Church  and  the  State.  Sherlock  was,  in  influence 
and  reputation,  though  not  in  rank,  the  foremost  man  among 
the  nonjurors.  His  authority  and  example  had  induced  some  of 
his  brethren,  who  had  at  first  wavered,  to  resign  their  benefices. 
The  day  of  suspension  came  :  the  day  of  deprivation  came  ;  and 
still  he  was  firm.  He  seemed  to  have  found,  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  rectitude,  and  in  meditation  on  the  invisible  world,  ample 
compensation  for  all  his  losses.  While  excluded  from  the  pulpit 
where  his  eloquence  had  once  delighted  the  learned  and  polite 
inmates  of  the  Temple,  he  wrote  that  celebrated  Treatise  on 
Death  which,  during  many  years,  stood  next  to  the  Whole  Duty 
of  Man  in  the  bookcases  of  serious  Arminians.  Soon,  however, 
it  began  to  be  suspected  that  his  resolution  was  giving  way.  He 
declared  that  he  would  be  no  party  to  a  schism  :  he  advised  those 
who  sought  his  counsel  not  to  leave  their  parish  churches  :  nay, 
finding  that  the  law  which  had  ejected  him  from  his  cure  did 
not  interdict  him  from  performing  divine  service,  he  officiated 
at  Saint  Dunstan's,  and  there  prayed  for  King  William  and 
Queen  Mary.  The  apostolical  injunction,  he  said,  was  that 
prayers  should  be  made  for  all  in  authority  ;  and  William  and 
Mary  were  visibly  in  authority.  His  Jacobite  friends  loudly 
blamed  his  inconsistency.  How,  they  asked,  if  you  admit  that 

*  It  is  not  quite  clear  whether  Sharp's  scruple  about  the  deprived  prelates 
was  a  scruple  of  conscience  or  merely  a  scruple  of  delicacy.  See  his  Life  by  his 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  151 

the  Apostle  speaks  in  this  passage  of  actual  authority,  can  you 
maintain  that,  in  other  passages  of  a  similar  kind,  he  speaks  only 
of  legitimate  authority  ?  Or,  how  can  you,  without  sin,  designate 
as  King,  in  a  solemn  address  to  God,  one  whom  you  cannot, 
without  sin,  promise  to  obey  as  King  ?  These  reasonings  were 
unanswerable  ;  and  Sherlock  soon  began  to  think  them  so :  but 
the  conclusion  to  which  they  led  him  was  diametrically  opposed 
to  the  conclusion  to  which  they  were  meant  to  lead  him.  He 
hesitated,  however,  till  a  new  light  flashed  on  his  mind  from  a 
quarter  from  which  there  was  little  reason  to  expect  anything 
but  tenfold  darkness.  In  the  reign  of  James  the  First,  Doctor 
John  Overall,  Bishop  of  Exeter,  had  written  an  elaborate  trea- 
tise on  the  rights  of  civil  and  ecclesiastical  governors.  This 
treatise  had  been  solemnly  approved  by  the  Convocations,  of 
Canterbury  and  York,  and  might  therefore  be  considered  as  an 
authoritative  exposition  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  of  England. 
A  manuscript  copy  had  come  into  Sancroft's  hands  ;  and  he, 
soon  after  the  Revolution,  sent  it  to  the  press.  He  hoped,  doubt- 
less, that  the  publication  would  injure  the  new  government :  but 
he  was  lamentably  disappointed.  The  book  indeed  condemned 
all  resistance  in  terms  as  strong  as  he  could  himself  have  used  : 
but  one  passage,  which  had  escaped  his  notice,  was  decisive 
against  himself  and  his  fellow  schismatics.  Overall,  and  the  two 
Convocations  which  had  given  their  sanction  to  Overall's  teaching 
pronounced  that  a  government,  which  had  originated  in  rebel- 
lion, ought,  when  thoroughly  settled,  to  be  considered  as  or- 
dained by  God,  and  to  be  obeyed  by  Christian  men.*  Sherlock 

*  See  Overall's  Convocation  Book,  chapter  28.  Nothing  can  be  clearer  or 
more  to  the  purpose  than  his  language. 

"  When,  having  attained  their  ungodly  desires,  whether  ambitious  kings  by 
bringing  any  country  into  their  subjection,  or  disloyal  subjects  by  rebellious 
rising  against  their  natural  sovereigns,  they  hare  established  any  of  the  said 
degenerate  governments  among  their  people,  the  authority  either  so  unjustly 
established,  or  wrung  by  force  from  the  true  and  lawful  possessor,  being  always 
God's  authority,  and  therefore  receiving  no  impeachment  by  the  wickedness  of 
tho^e  that  have  it,  is  ever,  when  such  alterations  are  thoroughly  settled,  to  be 
reverenced  and  obeyed  ;  and  the  people  of  all  sorts,  as  well  of  the  clergy  as  of 
the  laity,  are  to  be  subject  unto  it,  not  only  for  fear,  but  likewise  for  conscience 

Then  follows  the  canon. 

"  If  any  man  shall  affirm  thnt,  when  any  such  new  formi  of  government, 


read,  and  was  convinced.  Hia  venerable  mother  the  Clnirch 
had  spoken  ;  and  he,  with  the  docility  of  a  child,  accepted  her 
decree.  The  government  which  had  sprung  from  the  Revolution 
might,  at  least  since  the  battle  of  the  Boyne  and  the  flight  of 
James  from  Ireland,  be  fairly  called  a  settled  government,  and 
'ought  therefore  to  be  passively  obeyed  till  it  should  be  subverted 
by  another  revolution  and  succeeded  by  another  settled  govern- 

Sherlock  took  the  oaths,  and  speedily  published  in  justifica- 
tion of  his  conduct,  a  pamphlet  entitled  The  of  Allegiance 
to  Sovereign  Powers  stated.  The  sensation  produced  by  this 
work  was  immense.  Dryden's  Hind  and  Panther  had  not  raised 
so  great  an  uproar.  Halifax's  Letter  to  a  Dissenter  had  not 
called  forth  so  many  answers.  The  replies  to  the  Doctor,  the 
vindications  of  the  Doctor,  the  pasquinades  on  the  Doctor,  would 
fill  a  library.  The  clamour  redoubled  when  it  was  known  that 
the  convert  had  not  only  been  reappointed  Master  of  the  Temple, 
but  had  accepted  the  Deanery  of  Saint  Paul's,  which  had  become 
vacant  in  consequence  of  the  deprivation  of  Sancroft  and  the 
promotion  of  Tillotson.  The  rage  of  the  nonjurors  amounted 
almost  to  frenzy.  Was  it  not  enough,  they  asked,  to  desert 
the  true  and  pure  Church,  in  this  her  hour  of  sorrow  and  peril, 
without  also  slandering  her  ?  It  was  easy  to  understand  why  a 
greedy,  cowardly,  hypocrite  should  refuse  to  take  the  oaths  to 
the  usurper  as  long  as  it  seemed  probable  that  the  rightful  King 
would  be  restored,  and  should  make  haste  to  swear  after  the 
battle  of  the  Boyne.  Such  tergiversation  in  times  of  civil  dis- 
cord was  nothing  new.  What  was  new  was  that  the  turncoat 
should  attempt  to  transfer  his  ovn  guilt  and  shame  to  the  Church 
of  England,  and  should  proclaim  that  she  had  taught  him  to  lift 
his  heel  against  the  weak  who  were  in  the  right,  and  to  cringe 
to  the  powerful  who  were  in  the  wrong.  Had  such  indeed  been 
her  doctrine  or  her  practice  in  evil  days  ?  Had  she  abandoned 
her  Royal  Martyr  in  the  prison  or  on  the  scaffold  ?  Had  she  en- 
begun  by  rebellion,  are  after  thoroughly  settled,  the  authority  in  them  is  not  of 
God,  or  that  any  who  live  within  the  territories  of  any  such  new  governments 
are  not  bound  to  be  subject  to  God's  authority  which  is  there  executed,  but  -uay 
rube1  agaiust  the  same,  he  doth  greatly  err." 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  153 

joined  her  children  to  pay  obedience  to  the  Rump  or  to  the  Pro- 
tector ?  Yet  was  the  government  of  the  Rump  or  of  the  Protec- 
tor less  entitled  to  be  called  a  settled  government  than  the  gov- 
ernment of  William  and  Mary  ?  Had  not  the  battle  of  Wor- 
cester been  as  great  a  blow  to  the  hopes  of  the  House  of  Stuart 
as  the  battle  of  the  Boyne  ?  Had  not  the  chances  of  a  Restora- 
tion seemed  as  small  in  1657  as  they  could  seem  to  any  judicious 
man  in  1691  ?  In  spite  of  invectives  and  sarcasms,  however, 
there  was  Overall's  treatise  :  there  were  the  approving  votes  of  the 
two  Convocations ;  and  it  was  much  easier  to  rail  at  Sherlock 
than  to  explain  away  either  the  treatise  or  the  votes.  One  writer 
maintained  that  by  a  thoroughly  settled  government  must  have 
been  meant  a  government  of  which  the  title  was  uncontested. 
Thus,  he  said,  the  government  of  the  United  Provinces  became  a 
settled  government  when  it  was  recognised  by  Spain,  and  but  for 
that  recognition,  would  never  have  been  a  settled  government  to 
the  end  of  time.  Another  casuist,  somewhat  less  austere,  pro- 
nounced that  a  government,  wrongful  in  its  origin,  might  become 
a  settled  government  after  the  lapse  of  a  century.  On  the 
thirteenth  of  February  1789,  therefore,  and  not  a  day  earlier, 
Englishmen  would  be  at  liberty  to  swear  allegiance  to  a  govern- 
ment sprung  from  the  Revolution.  The  history  of  the  chosen 
people  was  ransacked  for  precedents.  Was  Eglon's  a  settled 
government  when  Ehud  stabbed  him  ?  Was  Joram's  a  settled 
government  when  Jehu  shot  him  ?  But  the  leading  case  was 
that  of  Athaliah.  It  was  indeed  a  case  which  furnished  the 
malecontents  with  many  happy  and  pungent  allusions ;  a  king- 
dom treacherously  seized  by  an  usurper  near  in  blood  to  the 
throne  ;  the  rightful  prince  long  dispossessed  ;  a  part  of  the  sa- 
cerdotal order  true,  through  many  disastrous  years,  to  the  Royal 
House  ;  a  counterrevolution  at  length  effected  by  the  High  Priest 
at  the  head  of  the  Levites.  Who,  it  was  asked,  would  dare  to 
blame  the  heroic  pontiff  who  had  restored  the  heir  of  David  ? 
Yet  was  not  the  government  of  Athaliah  as  firmly  settled  as  that 
of  the  Prince  of  Orange  ?  Hundreds  of  pages  written  at  this 
time  about  the  rights  of  Joash  and  the  bold  enterprise  of  Jehoiada 
are  mouldering  in  the  ancient  bookcases  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge. 


While  Sherlock  was  thus  fiercely  attacked  by  his  old  friends  he 
was  not  left  unmolested  by  his  old  enemies.  Some  vehement 
Whigs,  among  whom*Julian  Johnson  was  conspicuous,  declared 
that  Jacobitism  itself  was  respectable  when  compared  with  the 
vile  doctrine  which  had  been  discovered  in  the  Convocation 
Book.  That  passive  obedience  was  due  to  Kings  was  doubtless 
an  absurd  and  pernicious  notion.  Yet  it  was  impossible  not  to 
respect  the  consistency  and  fortitude  of  men  who  thought  them- 
selves bound  to  bear  true  allegiance,  at  all  hazards,  to  an  unfor- 
tunate, a  deposed,  an  exiled  oppressor.  But  the  political  creed 
which  Sherlock  had  learned  from  Overall  was  unmixed  base- 
ness and  wickedness.  A  cause  was  to  be  abandoned,  not  because 
it  was  unjust,  but  because  it  was  unprosperous.  Whether  James 
had  been  a  tyrant  or  had  been  the  father  of  his  people  was,  ac- 
cording to  this  theory,  quite  immaterial.  If  he  had  won  the 
battle  of  the  Boyne  we  should  have  been  bound  as  Christians  to 
be  his  slaves.  He  had  lost  it ;  and  we  were  bound  as  Christians 
to  be  his  foes.  Other  Whigs  congratulated  the  proselyte  on 
having  come,  by  whatever  road,  to  a  right  practical  conclusion, 
but  could  not  refrain  from  sneering  at  the  history  which  he  gave  of 
his  conversion.  He  was,  they  said,  a  man  of  eminent  learning  and 
abilities.  He  had  studied  the  question  of  allegiance  long  and 
deeply.  He  ha,d  written  much  about  it.  Several  months  had  been 
allowed  him  for  reading,  prayer,  and  reflection,  before  he  incur- 
red suspension,  several  months  more  before  he  incurred  depriva- 
tion. He  had  formed  an  opinion  for  which  he  had  declared  him- 
self ready  to  suffer  martyrdom  ;  he  had  taught  that  opinion  to 
others ;  and  he  had  then  changed  that  opinion  solely  because  he 
had  discovered  that  it  had  been,  not  refuted,  but  dogmatically 
pronounced  erroneous  by  the  two  Convocations  more  than  eighty 
years  before.  Surely  this  was  to  renounce  all  liberty  of  private 
judgment,  and  to  ascribe  to  the  Synods  of  Canterbury  and  York 
an  infallibility  which  the  Church  of  England  had  declared  that 
even  CEcumenical  Councils  could  not  justly  claim.  If,  it  was  sar- 
castically said,  all  our  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  in  matters  of 
vital  importance  to  the  wellbeing  of  society,  are  to  be  suddenly 
altered  by  a  few  lines  of  manuscript  found  in  a  corner  of  the 


library  at  Lambeth,  it  is  surely  much  to  be  wished  for  the  peace 
of  humble  Christians,  that  all  the  documents  to  which  this  sort 
of  authority  belongs  may  be  rummaged  oufr  and  sent  to  the  press 
as  soon  as  possible  :  for,  unless  this  be  done,  we  may  all,  like 
the  Doctor  when  he  refused  the  oaths  last  year,  be  committing 
sins  in  the  full  persuasion  that  we  are  discharging  duties.     In 
truth  it  is  not  easy  to  believe  that  the  Convocation  Book  fur- 
nished Sherlock  with  anything  more  than  a  pretext  for  doing 
what  he  had  made  made  up  his  mind  to  do.     The  united  force 
of  reason  and  interest  had  doubtless  convinced  him  that  his  pas- 
sions and  prejudices  had  led  him  into  a  great  error.     That  error 
he  determined  to  recant ;  and  it  cost  him  less  to  say  that  his 
opinion  had  been  changed  by  newly  discovered  evidence,  than 
that  he  had  formed  a  wrong  judgment  with  all  the  materials 
for  the  forming  of  a  right  judgment  before  him.     The  popular 
belief  was  that  his  retractation  was  the  effect  of  the  tears,  expos- 
tulations, and  reproaches  of   his  wife.     The  lady's  spirit  was 
high  :  her  authority  in  the  family  was  great  ;  and  she  cared 
much  more  about  her  house  and  her  carriage,  the  plenty  of  her 
table  and  the  prospects  of  her  children,  than  about  the  patriar- 
chal origin  of  government  or  the  meaning  of  the  word  Abdication. 
She  had,  it  was  asserted,  given  her  husband  no  peace  by  day  or 
by  night  till  he  had  got  over  his  scruples.     In  letters,  fables, 
songs,  dialogues,  without  number,  her  powers  of  seduction  and 
intimidation  were  malignantly  extolled.       She  was  Xantippe 
pouring  water  on  the  head  of  Socrates.     She  was  Dalilah  shear- 
ing Samson.       She  was  Eve  forcing  the  forbidden  fruit  into 
Adam's  mouth.     She  was  Job's  wife,  imploring  her  ruined  lord, 
who  sate  scraping  himself  among  the  ashes,  not  to  curse  and 
die,  but  to  swear  and  live.     While  the  balladmakers  celebrated 
the  victory  of  Mrs.  Sherlock,  another  class  of  assailants  fell 
on  the  theological  reputation  of  her  spusoe.     Till  he  took  the 
oaths,  he  had  always  been  considered  as  the  most  orthodox  of 
divines.     But  the  captious  and  malignant  criticism  to  which  his 
writings  were  now  subjected  would  have  found  heresy  in  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount ;  and  he,  unfortunately,  was  rash  enough 
to  publish   at  the  very  moment  when  the  outcry  against   his 


political  tergiversation  was  loudest,  his  thoughts  on  the  -nystery 
of  the  Trinity.  It  is  probable  that,  at  another  time,  his  work 
would  have  been  hailed  by  good  Churchmen  as  a  triumphant 
answer  to  the  Socinians  and  Sabellians.  But  unhappily,  in  his 
zeal  against  Socinians  and  Sabellians,  he  used  expressions  which 
might  be  construed  into  Tritheism.  Candid  judges  would  have 
remembered  that  the  true  path  was  closely  pressed  on  the  right 
and  on  the  left  by  error,  and  that  it  was  scarcely  possible  to 
keep  far  enough  from  danger  on  one  side  without  going  very 
close  to  danger  on  the  other.  But  candid  judges  Sherlock  was  not 
likely  to  find  among  the  Jacobites.  His  old  allies  affirmed  that 
he  had  incurred  all  the  fearful  penalties  denounced  in  the  Atlia- 
nasian  Creed  against  those  who  divide  the  substance.  Bulky 
quartos  were  written  to  prove  that  he  held  the  existence  of  three 
distinct  Deities ;  and  some  facetious  malecontents,  who  troubled 
themselves  very  little  about  the  Catholic  verity,  amused  the 
town  by  lampoons  in  English  and  Latin  on  his  heterodoxy. 
"  We,"  said  one  of  these  jesters,  "  plight  our  faith  to  one  King, 
and  call  one  God  to  attest  our  promise.  We  cannot  think  it 
strange  that  there  should  be  more  than  one  King  to  whom  the 
Doctor  has  sworn  allegiance,  when  we  consider  that  the  Doctor 
has  more  Gods  than  oue  to  swear  by."  * 

*  A  list  of  all  the  pieces  which  I  have  read  relating  to  Sherlock's  apostasy 
would  fatigue  the  reader.  I  will  mention  afewof  different  kinds;  Parkinson's  Ex- 
amination of  Dr.  Sherlock's  Case  of  Allegiance,  1691 ;  Answer  to  Dr.  Sherlock's 
Case  of  Allegiance,  by  a  London  Apprentice,  1691 ;  the  Reasons  of  the  New  Con- 
vert's taking  the  Oaths  to  the  present  Government,  1691 ;  Utrum  horum  ?  or  God's 
ways  of  disposing  of  Kingdoms,  and  some  Clergymen's  ways  of  disposing  of  them, 
1691;  Sherlock  and  Xanthippe,  1691;  Saint  Paul's  Triumph  in  his  sufferings  for 
Christ,  by  Matthew  Bryan,  LL.D.  dedicated  Ecclesiae  sub  cruce  gementi ;  A  Word 
to  a  wavering  Levite  ;  The  Trimming  Court  Divine  ;  Proteus  E  cclesiasticus,  or 
Observations  on  Dr.  Sh — 's  late  Case  of  Allegiance  ;  the  "Weasil  Uncased ;  A 
Whip  for  the  Weasil ;  the  Anti-Weasils.  Numerous  allusions  to  Sherlock  and 
his  wife  will  be  found  in  the  ribald  writings  of  Tom  Brown,  Tom  Durfey,  and  Ned 
Ward.  See  the  Life  of  James,  ii.  318.  Several  curious  letters  about  Sherlock's 
apostasy  are  among  the  Tanner  MSS.  I  will  give  two  or  three  specimens  of  the 
rhymes  which  the  Case  of  Allegiance  called  forth  : 

"  When  Eve  the  fruit  had  tasted, 
She  to  her  husband  hasted. 

And  chuck'd  him  on  the  chin-a. 
Dear  Bud,  quoth  she,  come  taste  this  fruit ; 
'Twill  finel}'  with  ynur  palate  suit ; 
To  eat  it  is  no  sin-a." 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  157 

Sherlock  would,  perhaps,  have  doubted  whether  the  govern- 
ment to  which  he  had  submitted  was  entitled  to  be  called  a  set- 
tled government,  if  he  had  known  all  the  dangers  by  which  it 
was  threatened.  Scarcely  had  Preston's  plot  been  detected, 
when  a  new  plot  of  a  very  different  kind  was  formed  in  the 
camp,  in  the  navy,  in  the  treasury,  in  the  very  bedchamber  of 
the  King.  This  mystery  of  iniquity  has,  through  five  genera- 
tions, been  gradually  unveiling,  but  is  not  yet  entirely  unveiled. 
Some  parts  which  are  still  obscure  may  possibly,  by  the  discov- 
ery of  letters  or  diaries  now  reposing  under  the  dust  of  a  cen- 
tury and  a  half,  be  made  clear  to  our  posterity.  The  materials, 
however,  which  are  at  present  accessible,  are  sufficient  for  the 
construction  of  a  narrative  not  to  be  read  without  shame  and 

We  have  seen  that,  in  the  spring  of  1690,  Shrewsbury,  ir- 
ritated by  finding  his  counsels  rejected,  and  those  of  his  Tory 
rivals  followed,  suffered  himself,  in  a  fatal  hour,  to  be  drawn  into 
a  correspondence  with  the  banished  family.  We  have  seen  also 
by  what  cruel  sufferings  of  body  and  mind  he  expiated  his  fault. 
Tortured  by  remorse,  and  by  disease  the  effect  of  remorse,  he 
had  quitted  the  Court :  but  he  had  left  behind  him  men  whose 
principles  were  not  less  lax  than  his,  and  whose  hearts  were  far 
harder  and  colder. 

"  Ae  moody  Job,  in  shirtless  case, 
With  collyflowers  all  o'er  his  face, 
Did  on  the  dunghill  languish, 
His  spouse  thus  whispers  in  his  ear. 
Swear,  husband,  as  you  love  me,  swear 
.    •.  'Twill  ease  you  of  your  anguish." 

'  At  first  he  had  doubt,  and  therefore  did  pray 
That  heaven  would  instruct  him  in  the  right  way, 
Whether  Jemmy  or  William  he  ought  to  obey, 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 

"  The  pass  »t  the  Boyne  determin'd  that  case  ; 
And  precept  to  Providence  then  did  give  place; 
To  change  his  opinion  he  thought  no  disgrace ; 

Which  nobody  can  deny. 
"  But  this  with  the  Scripture  can  never  agree, 
As  by  ITosea  the  eighth  and  the  fourth  you  may  see  ; 
'  They  have  set  up  kings,  but  yet  not  by  me,' 
.  W  Inch  nobody  can  deny." 

*  The  ohief  authority  for  this  part  of  my  history  is  the  Life  of  James,  particu- 
larly the  highly  important  and  interesting  passage  which  begins  at  page  444,  and 
ends  at  page  450,  of  the  second  volume.  This  passage  was  corrected  by  the  1're- 
tender  with  his  own  hand. 


Early  in  1691,  some  of  these  men  began  to  hold  secret  com- 
munications with  Saint  Germains.  Wicked  and  base  as  their 
conduct  was,  there  was  in  it  nothing  surprising.  They  did  after 
their  kind.  The  times  were  troubled.  A  thick  cloud  was  upon 
the  future.  The  most  sagacious  and  experienced  statesman 
could  not  see  with  any  clearness  three  months  before  him.  To 
a  man  of  virtue  and  honour,  indeed,  this  mattered  little.  His 
uncertainty  as  to  what  the  morrow  might  bring  forth  might 
make  him  anxious,  but  could  not  make  him  perfidious.  Though 
left  in  utter  darkness  as  to  what  concerned  his  interests,  he  had 
the  sure  guidance  of  his  principles.  But,  unhappily,  men  of 
virtue  and  honour  were  not  numerous  among  the  courtiers  of 
that  age.  Whitehall  had  been,  during  thirty  years,  a  seminary 
of  every  public  and  private  vice,  and  swarmed  with  lowminded, 
doubledealing,  selfseeking  politicians.  These  politicians  now 
acted  as  it  was  natural  that  men  profoundly  immoral  should  act 
at  a  crisis  of  which  none  could  predict  the  issue.  Some  of  them 
might  have  a  slight  predilection  for  William  ;  others  a  slight 
predilection  for  James :  but  it  was  not  by  any  such  predilection 
that  the  conduct  of  any  of  the  breed  was  guided.  If  it  had  seem- 
ed certain  that  William  would  stand,  they  would  all  have  been 
for  William.  If  it  had  seemed  certain  that  James  would  be 
restored,  they  would  all  have  been  for  James.  But  what  was 
to  be  done  when  the  chances  appeared  to  be  almost  exactly 
balanced  ?  There  were  honest  men  of  one  party  who  would 
have  answered,  To  stand  by  the  true  King  and  the  true  Church, 
and,  if  necessary,  to  die  for  them  like  Laud.  There  were  hon- 
est men  of  the  other  party  who  would  have  answered,  To  stand 
by  the  liberties  of  England  and  the  Protestant  religion,  and,  if 
necessary,  to  die  for  them  like  Sidney.  But  such  consistency 
was  unintelligible  to  many  of  the  noble  and  the  powerful. 
Their  object  was  to  be  safe  in  every  event.  They  therefore 
openly  took  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  one  King,  and  secretly 
plighted  their  word  to  the  other.  They  were  indefatigable 
in  obtaining  commissions,  patents  of  peerage,  pensions,  grants 
of  crown  land,  under  the  great  seal  of  William ;  and  they 
had  in  their  secret  drawers  promises  of  pardon  in  the  hand- 
writing of  James. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART..  159 

Among  those  who  were  guilty  of  this  wickedness  three  men 
stand  preeminent,  Russell,  Godolphin,  and  Marlborough.  No 
three  men  could  be,  iu  head  and  heart,  more  unlike  to  one  an- 
other :  and  the  peculiar  qualities  of  each  gave  a  peculiar  charac- 
ter to  his  villany.  The  treason  of  Russell  is  to  be  attributed 
partly  to  fractiousness :  the  treason  of  Godolphin  is  to  be 
attributed  altogether  to  timidity :  the  treason  of  Marlborough 
was  the  treason  of  a  man  of  great  genius  and  boundless  ambi- 

It  may  be  thought  strange  that  Russell  should  have  been 
out  of  humour.  He  had  just  accepted  the  command  of  the 
united  naval  forces  of  England  and  Holland  with  the  rank  of 
Admiral  of  the  Fleet.  He  was  Treasurer  of  the  Navy.  He 
had  a  pension  of  three  thousand  pounds  a  year.  Crown  prop- 
erty near  Charing  Cross,  to  the  value  of  eighteen  thousand 
pounds,  had  been  on  him.  His  indirect  gains  must 
have  been  immense.  But  he  was  still  dissatisfied.  In  truth, 
with  undaunted  courage,  with  considerable  talents  both  for  war 
and  for  administration,  and  with  a  certain  public  spirit,  which 
showed  itself  by  glimpses  even  in  the  very  worst  parts  of  his 
life,  he  was  emphatically  a  bad  man,  insolent,  malignant,  greedy, 
faithless.  He  conceived  that  the  great  services  which  he  had 
performed  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution  had  not  been  adequate- 
ly rewarded.  Everything  that  was  given  to  others  seemed  to 
him  to  be  pillaged  from  himself.  A  letter  is  still  extant  which 
he  wrote  to  William  about  this  time.  It  is  made  up  of  boasts, 
reproaches,  and  sneers.  The  Admiral,  with  ironical  professions 
of  humility  and  loyalty,  asks  permission  to  put  his  wrongs  on 
paper,  because  his  bashfulness  will  not  suffer  him  to  explain 
himself  by  word  of  mouth.  His  grievances  he  represents  as  in- 
tolerable. Other  people  got  large  grants  of  royal  domains  :  but 
he  could  get  scarcely  anything.  Other  people  could  provide 
for  their  dependants :  but  his  recommendations  were  uniformly 
disregarded.  The  income  which  he  derived  from  the  royal 
favour  might  seem  large  :  but  he  had  poor  relations ;  and  the 
government,  instead  of.  doing  its  duty  by  them,  had  most  un- 
handsomely left  them  to  his  care.  He  had  a  sister  who  ought 


to  have  a  pension  ;  for,  without  one,  she  could  not  give  portions 
to  her  daughters.  He  had  a  brother  who,  for  want  of  a  place, 
had  been  reduced  to  the  melancholy  necessity  of  marrying  an 
old  woman  for  her  money.  Russell  proceeded  to  complain  bit- 
terly that  the  Whigs  were  neglected,  and  that  the  Revolution 
had  aggrandised  and  enriched  men  who  had  made  the  greatest 
efforts  to  avert  it.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  this  complaint 
came  from  his  heart.  For,  next  to  his  own  interests,  those  of 
his  party  were  dear  to  him ;  and,  even  when  he  was  most  in- 
clined to  become  a  Jacobite,  he  never  had  the  smallest  disposi- 
tion to  become  a  Tory.  In  the  temper  which  this  letter  indi- 
cates, he  readily  listened  to  the  suggestions  of  David  Lloyd,  one 
of  the  ablest  and  most  active  of  the  emissaries  who  at  this  time 
were  constantly  plying  between  France  and  England.  Lloyd 
conveyed  to  James  assurances  that  Russell  would,  when  a 
favourable  opportunity  should  present  itself,  try  to  effect  by 
means  of  the  fleet  what  Monk  had  effected  in  the  preceding 
generation  by  means  of  the  army.*  To  what  extent  these 
assurances  were  sincere  was  a  question  about  which  men  who 
knew  Russell  well,  and  who  were  minutely  informed  as  to  his 
conduct,  were  in  doubt.  It  seems  probable  that,  during  many 
months,  he  did  not  know  his  own  mind.  His  interest  was  to 
stand  well,  as  long  as  possible,  with  both  Kings.  His  irritable 
and  imperious  nature  was  constantly  impelling  him  to  quarrel 
with  both.  His  spleen  was  excited  one  week  by  a  dry  answer 
from  William,  and  the  next  week  by  an  absurd  proclamation 
from  James.  Fortunatety  the  most  important  day  of  his  life, 
the  day  from  which  all  his  subsequent  years  took  their  colour, 
found  him  out  of  temper  with  the  banished  tyrant. 

Godolphin  had  not,  and  did  not  pretend  to  have,  any  cause 
of  complaint  against  the  government  which  he  served.  He  was 
First  Commissioner  of  the  Treasury.  He  had  been  protected, 
trusted,  caressed.  Indeed  the  favour  shown  to  him  had  excited 
many  murmurs.  Was  it  fitting,  the  Whigs  had  indignantly 
asked,  that  a  man  who  had  been  high  in  office  through  the  whole 

*  Kussell  to  William,  May  10, 1G91,  in  Palrymple's  Appendix,  Part  II.  Book 
vii.    See  also  the  Memoirs  of  Sir  Jolm  Leake. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  161 

of  the  late  reign,  who  had  promised  to  vote  for  the  Indulgence, 
who  had  sate  in  Privy  Council  with  a  Jesuit,  who  had  sate  at 
the  Board  of  Treasury  with  two  Papists,  who  had  attended  an 
idolatress  to  her  altar,  should  be  among  the  chief  ministers  of  a 
Prince  whose  title  to  the  throne  was  derived  from  the  Declara- 
tion of  Right  ?  But  on  William  this  clamour  had  produced  no 
effect ;  and  none  of  his  English  servants  seems  to  have  had  at 
this  time  a  larger  share  of  his  confidence  than  Godolphin. 

Nevertheless,  the  Jacobites  did  not  despair.  One  of  the  most 
zealous  among  them,  a  gentleman  named  Bulkeley,  who  had 
formerly  been  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  Godolphin,  undertook 
to  see  what  could  be  done.  He  called  at  the  Treasury,  and 
tried  to  draw  the  First  Lord  into  political  talk.  This  was  no 
easy  matter ;  for  Godolphin  was  not  a  man  to  put  himself  lightly 
into  the  power  of  others.  His  reserve  was  proverbial ;  and  he 
was  especially  renowned  for  the  dexterity  with  which  he,  through 
life,  turned  conversation  away  from  matters  of  state  to  a  main 
of  cocks  or  the  pedigree  of  a  race  horse.  The  visit  ended  with- 
out his  uttering  a  word  indicating  that  he  remembered  the  ex- 
istence of  King  James. 

Bulkeley,  however,  was  not  to  be  so  repulsed.  He  came 
again,  and  introduced  the  subject  which  was  nearest  his  heart. 
Godolphin  then  asked  after  his  old  master  and  mistress  in  the 
mournful  tone  of  a  man  who  despaired  of  ever  being  reconciled 
to  them.  Bulkeley  assured  him  that  King  James  was  ready  to 
forgive  all  the  past.  "  May  I  tell  His  Majesty  that  you  will  try 
to  deserve  his  favour  ?  "  At  this  Godolphin  rose,  said  something 
about  the  trammels  of  office  and  his  wish  to  be  released  from 
them,  and  put  an  end  to  the  interview. 

Bulkeley  soon  made  a  third  attempt.  By  this  time  Godol- 
phin had  learned  some  things  which  shook  his  confidence  in  the 
stability  of  the  government  which  he  served.  He  began  to  think, 
as  he  would  himself  have  expressed  it,  that  he  had  betted  too 
deep  on  the  Revolution,  and  that  it  was  time  to  hedge.  Eva- 
sions would  no  longer  serve  his  turn.  It  was  necessary  to  speak 
out.  He  spoke  out,  and  declared  himself  a  devoted  servant  of 
King  James.  "  I  shall  take  an  early  opportunity  of  resign- 
VOL.  IV.— 11 


ing  my  place.  But,  till  then,  I  am  under  a  tie.  I  must  not  be- 
tray my  trust."  To  enhance  the  value  of  the  sacrifice  which 
he  proposed  to  make,  he  produced  a  most  friendly  and  confiden- 
tial letter  which  he  had  lately  received  from  William.  "  You  see 
how  entirely  the  Prince  of  Orange  trusts  me.  He  tells  me  that 
he  cannot  do  without  me,  and  that  there  is  no  Englishman  for 
whom  he  has  so  great  a  kindness :  but  all  this  weighs  nothing 
with  me  in  comparison  of  my  duty  to  my  lawful  King." 

If  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  really  had  scruples  about 
betraying  his  trust,  those  scruples  were  soon  so  effectually  re- 
moved that  he  very  complacently  continued,  during  six  years, 
to  eat  the  bread  of  one  master,  while  secretly  sending  profes- 
sions  of  attachment  and  promise  of  service  to  another. 

The  truth  is  that  Godolphin  was  under  the  influence  of  a 
mind  far  more  powerful  and  far  more  depraved  than  his  own. 
His  perplexities  had  been  imparted  to  Marlboro  ugh,  to  whom 
he  had  long  been  bound  by  such  friendship  as  two  very  unprin- 
cipled men  are  capable  of  feeling  for  each  other,  and  to  whom 
fie  was  afterwards  bound  by  close  domestic  ties. 

Marlborough  was  in  a  very  different  situation  from  that  of 
William's  other  servants.  Lloyd  might  make  overtures  to 
Russell,  and  Bulkeley  to  Godolphin.  But  all  the  agents  of 
the  banished  Court  stood  aloof  from  the  deserter  of  Salisbury. 
That  shameful  night  seemed  to  have  forever  separated  the  false 
friend  from  the  Prince  whom  he  had  ruined.  James  had,  even 
in  the  last  extremity,  when  his  army  was  in  full  retreat,  when 
his  whole  kingdom  had  risen  against  him,  declared  that  he  would 
never  pardon  Churchill,  never,  never.  By  all  the  Jacobites  the 
name  of  Churchill  was  held  in  peculiar  abhorrence ;  and,  in  the 
prose  and  verse  which  came  forth  daily  from  their  secret  presses, 
a  precedence  in  infamy,  among  all  the  many  traitors  of  the  age, 
was  assigned  to  him.  In  the  order  of  things  which  had  sprung  from 
the  Revolution,  he  was  one  of  -the  great  men  of  England,  high 
in  the  state,  high  in  the  army.  He  had  been  created  an  Earl. 
He  had  a  large  share  in  the  military  administration.  The  emolu- 
ments, direct  and  indirect,  of  the  places  and  commands  which 
he  held  under  the  Crown  were  believed  at  the  Dutch  Embassy 

WILLIAM   AND    MAKT.  163 

to  amount  to  twelve  thousand  pounds  a  year,  in  the  event  of 
a  counterrevolution  it  seemed  that  he  had  nothing  in  prospect 
but  a  garret  in  Holland  or  a  scaffold  on  Tower  Hill.  It  might 
therefore  have  been  expected  that  he  would  serve  his  new  mas- 
ter with  fidelity  ;  not  indeed  with  the  fidelity  of  Nottingham, 
which  was  the  fidelity  of  conscientiousness,  not  with  the  fidelity  of 
Portland,  which  was  the  fidelity  of  affection,  but  with  the  not 
less  stubborn  fidelity  of  despair. 

Those  who  thought  thus  knew  but  little  of  Marlborough. 
Confident  in  his  own  powers  of  deception,  he  resolved,  since  the 
Jacobite  agents  would  not  seek  him,  to  seek  them.  He  there- 
fore sent  to  beg  an  interview  with  Colonel  Edward  Sackville. 

Sackville  was  astonished  and  not  much  pleased  by  the  mes- 
sage. He  was  a  sturdy  Cavalier  of  the  old  school.  He  had  been 
persecuted  in  the  days  of  the  Popish  plot  for  manfully  saying 
what  he  thought,  and  what  everybody  now  thinks,  about  Gates 
and  Bedloe.*  Since  the  Revolution  he  had  repeatedly  put  his 
neck  in  peril  for  King  James,  had  been  chased  by  officers  with 
warrants,  and  had  been  designated  as  a  traitor  in  a  proclamation 
to  which  Marlborough  himself  had  been  a  party. f  It  was  not 
without  reluctance  that  the  stanch  royalist  crossed  the  hated 
threshold  of  the  deserter.  He  was  repaid  for  his  effort  by  the 
edifying  spectacle  of  such  an  agony  of  repentance  as  he  had 
never  before  seen.  "  Will  you,"  said  Marlborough,  "  be  my 
intercessor  with  the  King?  Will  you  tell  him  what  I  suffer? 
My  crimes  now  appear  to  me  in  their  true  light ;  and  I  shrink 
with  horror  from  the  contemplation.  The  thought  of  them  is  with 
me  day  and  night.  I  sit  down  to  table  :  but  I  cannot  eat.  I 
throw  myself  on  my  bed:  but  I  cannot  sleep.  I  am  ready  to 
sacrifice  everything,  to  brave  everything,  to  bring  utter  ruin  on 
my  fortunes,  if  only  I  may  be  free  from  the  misery  of  a  wounded 
spirit."  If  appearances  could  be  trusted,  this  great  offender  was 
as  true  a  penitent  as  David  or  as  Peter.  Sackville  reported  to 
his  friends  what  had  passed.  They  could  not  but  acknowledge 
that,  if  the  archtraitor,  who  had  hitherto  opposed  to  conscience 

*  Commons'  Journals,  Mar.  21,  21,  Gray's  Debates  ;  Observator. 
t  London  Gazette,  July  -i,  lUJu. 


and  to  public  opinion  the  same  cool  and  placid  hardihood  which 
distinguished  him  on  fields  of  battle,  had  really  begun  to  feel 
remorse,  it  would  be  absurd  to  reject,  on  account  of  his  unworthi- 
ness,  the  inestimable  services  which  it  was  in  his  power  to  render 
to  the  good  cause.  He  sate  in  the  interior  council :  he  held  high 
command  in  the  army  :  he  had  been  recently  entrusted,  and 
would  doubtless  again  be  entrusted,  with  the  direction  of  import- 
ant military  operations.  It  was  true  that  no  man  had  incurred 
equal  guilt :  but  it  was  true  also  that  no  man  had  it  in  his  power 
to  make  equal  reparation.  If  he  was  sincere,  he  might  doubt- 
less earn  the  pardon  which  he  so  much  desired.  But  was  he 
sincere  ?  Had  he  not  been  just  as  loud  in  professions  of  loyalty 
on  the  very  eve  of  his  crime?  It  was  necessary  to  put  him  to 
the  test.  Several  tests  were  applied  by  Sackville  and  Lloyd. 
Marlborough  was  required  to  furnish  full  information  touching 
the  strength  and  the  distribution  of  all  the  divisions  of  the  Eng- 
lish army  ;  and  he  complied.  He  was  required  to  disclose  the 
whole  plan  of  the  approaching  campaign  ;  and  he  did  so.  The 
Jacobite  leaders  watched  carefully  for  inaccuracies  in  his  reports, 
but  could  find  none.  It  was  thought  a  still  stronger  proof  of  his 
fidelity  that  he  gaYe  valuable  intelligence  about  what  was  doing 
in  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  State.  A  deposition  had  been 
sworn  against  one  zealous  royalist.  A  warrant  was  preparing 
against  another.  These  intimations  saved  several  of  the  male- 
contents  from  imprisonment,  if  not  from  the  gallows  ;  and  it 
was  impossible  for  them  not  to  feel  some  relenting  towards  an 
awakened  sinner  to  whom  they  owed  so  much. 

Pie  however,  in  his  secret  conversations  with  his  new  allies, 
laid  no  claim  to  merit.  He  did  not,  he  said,  ask  for  confidence. 
How  could  he,  after  the  villanies  which  he  had  committed  against 
the  best  of  Kings,  hope  ever  to  be  trusted  again  ?  It  was  enough 
for  a  wretch  like  him  to  be  permitted  to  make,  at  the  cost  of  his 
life,  some  poor  atonement  to  the  gracious  master,  whom  he  had 
indeed  basely  injured,  but  whom  he  had  never  ceased  to  love. 
It  was  not  improbable  that,  in  the  summer,  he  might  command 
the  English  forces  in  Flanders.  Was  it  wished  that  he  should 
bring  them  over  in  a  body  to  the  French  camp  ?  If  buck  were 

"WILLIAM   AND    MART.  165 

the  royal  pleasure,  he  would  undertake  that  the  thing  should  be 
done.  But  on  the  whole  he  thought  that  it  would  be  better  to 
wait  till  the  next  session  of  Parliament.  And  then  he  hinted  at 
a  plan,  which  he  afterwards  more  fully  matured,  for  expelling 
the  usurper  by  means  of  the  English  legislature  and  the  English 
army.  In  the  meantime  he  hoped  that  James  would  command 
Godolphin  not  to  quit  the  Treasury.  A  private  man  could  do 
little  for  the  good  cause.  One  who  was  the  director  of  the 
national  finances,  and  the  depository  of  the  gravest  secrets  of 
state,  might  render  inestimable  services. 

Maryborough's  pretended  repentance  imposed  so  completely 
on  those  who  managed  the  affairs  of  James  in  London  that  they 
sent  Lloyd  to  France,  with  the  cheering  intelligence  that  the 
most  depraved  of  all  rebels  had  been  wonderfully  transformed 
into  a  loyal  subject.  The  tidings  filled  James  with  delight  and 
hope.  Had  he  been  wise,  they  would  have  excited  in  him  only 
aversion  and  distrust.  It  was  absurd  to  imagine  that  a  man 
really  heartbroken  by  remorse  and  shame  for  one  act  of  perfidy 
would  determine  to  lighten  his  conscience  by  committing  a  second 
act  of  perfidy  as  odious  and  as  disgraceful  as  the  first.  The. 
promised  atonement  was  so  wicked  and  base  that  it  never  could 
be  made  by  any  man  sincerely  desirous  to  atone  for  past  wicked- 
ness and  baseness.  The  truth  was  that,  when  Marlborough 
told  the  Jacobites  that  his  sense  of  guilt  prevented  him  from, 
swallowing  his  food  by  day  and  taking  his  rest  at  night,  he  was 
laughing  at  them.  The  loss  of  half  a  guinea  would  have  done 
more  to  spoil  his  appetite  and  to  disturb  his  slumbers  than  all 
the  terrors  of  an  evil  conscience.  What  his  offers  really  proved 
was  that  his  former  crime  had  sprung,  not  from  an  ill  regulated 
zeal  for  the  interests  of  his  country  and  his  religion,  but  from  a 
deep  and  incurable  moral  disease  which  had  infected  the  whole 
man.  James,  however,  partly  from  dulness  and  partly  from 
selfishness,  could  never  see  any  immorality  in  any  action  by 
which  he  was  benefited.  To  conspire  against  him,  to  betray 
him,  to  violate  an  oath  of  allegiance  sworn  to  him,  were  crimes 
for  which  no  punishment  here  or  hereafter  could  be  too  severe. 
15ut  to  be  ungrateful  to  his  enemies,  to  break  faith  with  his  ene- 


mies,  was  not  only  innocent  but  laudable.  The  desertion  at 
Salisbury  had  been  the  worst  of  crimes  :  for  it  had  ruined  him. 
A  similar  desertion  in  Flanders  would  be  an  honourable  exploit : 
for  it  might  restore  him. 

The  penitent  was  informed  by  his  Jacobite  friends  that  he  was 
forgiven.  The  news  was  most  welcome ;  but  something  more 
was  necessary  to  restore  his  lost  peace  of  mind.  Might  he  hope 
to  have,  in  the  royal  handwriting,  two  lines  containing  a  promise 
of  pardon  ?  It  was  not,  of  course,  for  his  own  sake  that  he 
asked  this.  But  he  was  confident  that,  with  such  a  document 
in  his  hands,  he  could  bring  back  to  the  right  path  some  persons 
of  great  note  who  adhered  to  the  usurper,  only  because  they 
imagined  that  they  had  no  mercy  to  expect  from  the  legitimate 
King.  They  would  return  to  their  duty  as  soon  as  they  saw 
that  even  the  worst  of  all  criminals  had,  on  his  repentance, 
been  generously  forgiven.  The  promise  was  written,  sent,  and 
carefully  treasured  up.  Marlborough  had  now  attained  one  ob- 
ject, an  object  which  was  common  to  him  with  Russell  and  Go- 
dolphin.  But  he  had  other  objects  which  neither  Russell  nor 
Godolphin  had  ever  contemplated.  There  is,  as  we  shall  here- 
after see,  strong  reason  to  believe  that  this  wise,  brave,  wicked 
man,  was  meditating  a  plan  worthy  of  his  fertile  intellect  and 
daring  spirit,  and  not  less  worthy  of  his  deeply  corrupted  heart, 
a  plan  which,  if  it  had  not  been  frustrated  by  strange  means, 
would  have  ruined  William  without  benefiting  James,  and  would 
Lave  made  the  successful  traitor  master  of  England  and  arbiter 
of  Europe. 

Thus  things  stood,  when,  in  May  1690,  William,  after  a 
short  and  busy  sojourn  in  England,  set  out  again  for  the  Con- 
tinent, where  the  regular  campaign  was  about  to  open.  He  took 
with  him  Marlbovough,  whose  abilities  he  justly  appreciated, 
and  of  whose  recent  negotiations  with  Saint  Germains  he  had 
not  the  faintest  suspicion.  At  the  Hague  several  important 
military  and  political  consultations  were  held  ;  and,  on  every 
occasion,  the  superiority  of  the  accomplished  Englishman  was 
felt  by  the  most  distinguished  soldiers  and  statesmen  of  the 
United  Provinces.  Heiusius,  long  after,  used  to  relate  a  coil- 


yersation  which  took  place  at  this  time  between  William  and 
the  Priuce  of  Vaudemout,  one  of  the  ablest  commanders  in  the 
Dutch  service.  Vaudemont  spoke  well  of  several  English  offi- 
cers, and  among  them  of  Talmash  and  Mackay,  but  pronounced 
Marlborough  superior  beyond  comparison  to  the  rest.  "He  has 
every  quality  of  a  general.  His  very  look  shows  it.  He  cannot 
fail  to  achieve  something  great."  "  I  really  believe,  cousin," 
answered  the  King,  "  that  my  Lord  will  make  good  every  thing 
that  you  have  said  of  him." 

There  was  still  a  short  interval  before  the  commencement  of 
military  operations.  William  passed  that  interval  in  his  beloved 
park  at  Loo.  Marlborough  spent  two  or  three  days  there  and 
was  then  despatched  to  Flanders,  with  orders  to  collect  all  the 
English  'forces,  to  form  a  camp  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Brus- 
sels, and  to  have  everything  in  readiness  for  the  King's  arrival. 

And  now  Marlborough  had  an  opportunity  of  proving  the 
sincerity  of  those  professions  by  which  he  had  obtained  from  a 
heart,  well  described  by  himself  as  harder  than  a  marble  chim- 
neypiece,  the  pardon  of  an  offense  such  as  might  have  moved 
even  a  gentle  nature  to  deadly  resentment.  He  received  from 
Saint  Germains  a  message  claiming  the  instant  performance  of 
his  promise  to  desert  at  the  head  of  his  troops.  He  was  told 
that  this  was  the  greatest  service  which  he  could  render  to  the 
Crown.  His  word  was  pledged  ;  and  the  gracious  master  who 
had  forgiven  all  past  errors  confidently  expected  that  it  would  be 
redeemed.  The  hypocrite  evaded  the  demand  with  character- 
istic dexterity.  In  the  most  respectful  and  affectionate  lan- 
guage he  excused  himself  for  not  immediately  obeying  the  royal 
commands.  The  promise  which  he  was  required  to  fulfil  had 
not  been  quite  correctly  understood.  There  had  been  some 
misapprehension  on  the  part  of  the  messengers.  To  carry  over 
a  regiment  or  two  would  do  more  harm  than  good.  To  carry 
over  a  whole  army  was  a  business  which  would  require  much 
time  and  management.*  While  James  was  murmuring  over 
these  apologies,  and  wishing  that  he  had  not  been  quite  so  plac- 

*  Life  of  James,  ii.  449. 


able,  William  arrived  at  the  head  quarters  of  the  allied  forces, 
and  took  the  chief  command. 

The  military  operations  in  Flanders  recommenced  early  in 
June  and  terminated  at  the  close  of  September.  No  important 
action  took  place.  The  two  armies  marched  and  countermarch- 
ed, drew  near  and  receded.  During  some  time  they  confronted 
each  other  with  less  than  a  league  between  them.  But  neither 
William  nor  Luxemburg  would  fight  except  at  an  advantage ; 
and  neither  gave  the  other  any  advantage.  Languid  as  the  cam- 
paign was,  it  is  on  one  account  remarkable.  During  more  than  a 
century  our  country  had  sent  no  great  force  to  make  war  by  land 
out  of  the  British  isles.  Our  aristocracy  had  therefore  long  ceased 
to  be  a  military  class.  The  nobles  of  France,  of  Germany,  of 
Holland,  were  generally  soldiers.  It  would  probably  have  been 
difficult  to  find  in  the  brilliant  circle  which  surrounded  Lewis  at 
Versailles  a  single  Marquess  or  Viscount  of  forty  who  had  not 
been  at  some  battle  or  siege.  But  the  immense  majority  of  our 
peers,  baronets  and  opulent  esquires  had  never  served  ex- 
cept in  the  trainbands,  and  had  never  borne  a  part  in  any  mili- 
tary exploit  more  serious  than  that  of  putting  down  a  riot  or 
keeping  a  street  clear  for  a  procession.  The  generation  which 
had  fought  at  Edgehill  and  Lansdowne  had  nearly  passed  away. 
The  wars  of  Charles  the  Second  had  been  almost  entirely  mar- 
itime. During  his  reign  therefore  the  sea  service  had  been  de- 
cidedly more  the  mode  than  the  land  service ;  and,  repeatedly, 
when  our  fleets  sailed  to  encounter  the  Dutch,  such  multitudes 
of  men  of  fashion  had  gone  on  board  that  the  parks  and  the 
theatres  had  been  left  desolate.  In  1691  at  length,  for  the  first 
time  since  Henry  the  Eighth  laid  siege  to  Boulogne,  an  English 
army  appeared  on  the  Continent  under  the  command  of  an  Eng- 
lish King.  A  camp  which  was  also  a  court,  was  irresistibly  attrac- 
tive to  many  young  patricians  full  of  natural  intrepidity,  and 
ambitious  of  the  favour  which  men  of  distinguished  bravery 
have  always  found  in  the  eyes  of  women.  To  volunteer  for 
Flanders  became  the  rage  among  the  fine  gentlemen  who  comb- 
ed their  flowing  wigs  and  exchanged  their  richly  perfumed 
snuffs  at  the  Saint  James's  Coffeehouse.  William's  headquar- 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  169 

ters  were  enlivened  by  a  crowd  of  splendid  equipages  and  by  a 
rapid  succession  of  sumptuous  banquets.  For  among  the  high- 
born and  high  spirited  youths  who  repaired  to  his  standard  were 
some  who,  though  quite  willing  to  face  a  battery,  were  not  at  all 
disposed  to  deny  themselves  the  luxuries  with  which  they  had 
been  surrounded  in  Soho  Square.  In  a  few  months  Shadwell 
brought  these  vigilant  fops  and  epicures  on  the  stage.  The 
town  was  made  merry  with  the  character  of  a  courageous  but 
prodigal  and  effeminate  coxcomb,  who  is  impatient  to  cross 
swords  with  the  best  men  in  the  French  household  troops,  but 
who  is  much  dejected  by  learning  that  he  may  find  it  difficult  to 
have  his  Champagne  iced  daily  during  the  summer.  lie  carries 
with  him  cooks,  confectioners,  and  laundresses,  a  waggonload  of 
plate,  a  wardrobe  of  laced  and  embroidered  suits,  and  much 
rich  tent  furniture,  of  which  the  patterns  have  been  chosen  by 
a  committee  of  fine  ladies.* 

While  the  hostile  armies  watched  each  other  in  Flanders, 
hostilities  were  carried  on  with  somewhat  more  vigour  in  other 
parts  of  Europe.  The  French  gained  some  advantages  in  Cat- 
alonia and  in  Piedmont.  Their  Turkish  allies,  who  in  the  east 
menaced  the  dominions  of  the  Emperor,  were  defeated  by  Lewis 
of  Baden  in  the  great  battle.  But  nowhere  were  the  events  of 
the  summer  so  important  as  in  Ireland. 

From  October  1690  till  May  1691,  no  military  operation 
on  a  large  scale  was  attempted  in  that  kingdom.  The  area  of 
the  island  was,  during  the  winter  and  spring,  not  unequally  di- 
vided between  the  contending  races.  The  whole  of  Ulster,  the 
greater  part  of  Leinster,  and  about  one  third  of  Munster  had 
submitted  to  the  English.  The  whole  of  Connaught,  the  greater 
part  of  Munster,  and  two  or  three  counties  of  Leinster  were 
held  by  the  Irish.  The  tortuous  boundary  formed  by  William's 
garrisons  ran  in  a  north  eastern  direction  from  the  bay  of  Castle- 
haven  to  Mallow,  and  then,  inclining  still  further  eastward,  pro- 
ceeded to  Cashel.  From  Cashel  the  line  went  to  Mullingar, 

*  The  description  of  this  young  hero  in  the  list  of  the  Dramatis  Persona  is 
amusing  :  Sir  Nicholas  Dainty,  A  most  conceited  fantastic  Beau,  of  drolling,  af- 
fected Speech ;  a  very  Coxcomb,  but  stout ;  a  most  luxurious  ellemiuate  Yoluu> 


from  Mullingar  to  Longford,  and  from  Longford  to  Cavan, 
skirted  Lough  Erne  on  the  west,  and  met  the  ocean  again  at 

On  the  English  side  of  this  pale  there  was  a  rude  and  imper- 
fect order.  Two  Lord  Justices,  Coningsby  and  Porter,  assisted  by 
a  Privy  Council,  represented  King  William  at  Dublin  Castle. 
Judges,  Sheriffs,  and  Justices  of  the  Peace  had  been  appointed  ; 
and  assizes  were,  after  a  long  interval,  held  in  several  county 
towns.  The  colonists  had  meanwhile  been  formed  into  a  strong 


militia,  under  the  command  of  officers  who  had  commissions  from 
the  Crown.  The  trainbands  of  the  capital  consisted  of  two 
thousand  five  hundred  foot,  two  troops  of  horse,  and  two  troops 
of  dragoons,  all  Protestants,  and  all  well  armed  and  clad.f  On  the 
fourth  of  November,  the  anniversary  of  William's  birth,  and  on 
the  fifth,  anniversary  of  his  landing  at  Torbay,  the  whole  of  this 
force  appeared  in  all  the  pomp  of  war.  The  vanquished  and  dis- 
armed natives  assisted  with  suppressed  grief  and  anger,  at  the  tri- 
umph of  the  caste  which  they  had,  five  months  before,  oppressed 
and  plundered  with  impunity.  The  Lord  Justices  went  in  state 
to  Saint  Patrick's  Cathedral :  bells  were  rung :  bonfires  were 
lighted :  hogsheads  of  ale  and  claret  were  set  abroach  in  the 
streets  :  fireworks  were  exhibited  on  College  Green  :  a  great 
company  of  nobles  and  public  functionaries  feasted  at  the  Castle  ; 
and  as  the  second  course  came  up  the  trumpets  sounded  and, 
Ulster  King  at  Arms  proclaimed,  in  Latin,  French,  and  English 
William  and  Mary,  by  the  grace  of  God,  King  and  Queen  of 
Great  Britain,  France,  and  Ireland. \ 

Within  the  territory  where  the  Saxon  race  was  dominant 
trade  and  industry  had  already  begun  to  revive.  The  brazen 
counters  which  bore  the  image  and  superscription  of  James  gave 
place  to  silver.  The  fugitives  who  had  taken  refuge  in  Eng- 
land came  back  in  multitudes ;  and,  by  their  intelligence, 
diligence,  and  thrift,  the  devastation  caused  by  two  years 
of  confusion  and  robbery  was  soon  in  part  repaired.  Merchant- 

*  Story's  Continuation  ;  Proclamation  of  February  21, 1690-1 ;  London  Gazette 
of  March  12. 

t  Story's  Continuation. 

t  Story's  Impartial  History ;  London  Gazette,  NOT.  17, 1690. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  171 

men  heavily  laden  were  constantly  passing  and  repassing  Saint 
George's  Channel.  The  receipts  of  the  custom  houses  on  the 
eastern  coast,  from  Cork  to  Londonderry,  amounted  in  six 
months  to  sixty-seven  thousand  five  hundred  pounds,  a  sum  such 
as  would  have  been  thought  extraordinary  even  in  the  most 
prosperous  times.* 

The  Irish  who  remained  within  the  English  pale  were,  one 
and  all,  hostile  to  the  English  domination.  They  were  there- 
fore subjected  to  a  rigorous  system  of  police,  the  natural  though 
lamentable  effect  of  extreme  danger  and  extreme  provocation. 
A  Papist  was  not  permitted  to  have  a  sword  or  a  gun.  He 
was  not  permitted  to  go  more  than  three  miles  out  of  his  parish 
except  to  the  market  town  on  the  market  day.  Lest  he  should 
give  information  or  assistance  to  his  brethren  who  occupied  the 
western  half  of  the  island,  he  was  forbidden  to  live  within  ten 
miles  of  the  frontier.  Lest  he  should  turn  his  house  into  a 
place  of  resort  for  malecontents,  he  was  forbidden  to  sell  liquor 
by  retail.  One  proclamation  announced  that,  if  the  property 
of  any  Protestant  should  be  injured  by  marauders,  his  loss 
should  be  made  good  at  the  expense  of  his  Popish  neighbours. 
Another  gave  notice  that,  if  any  Papist  who  had  not  been  at 
least  three  months  domiciled  in  Dublin  should  be  found  there, 
he  should  be  treated  as  a  spy.  Not  more  than  five  Papists 
were  to  assemble  in  the  capital  or  its  neighborhood  on  any  pre- 
text. Without  a  protection  from  the  government  no  member  of 
the  Church  of  Rome  was  safe  ;  and  the  government  would  not 
grant  a  protection  to  any  member  of  the  Church  of  Rome  who 
had  a  son  in  the  Irish  army.J 

In  spite  of  all  precautions  and  severities,  however,  the  Celt 
found  many  opportunities  of  taking  a  sly  revenge.  Houses  and 
barns  were  frequently  burned :  soldiers  were  frequently  murder- 
ed ;  and  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  obtain  evidence  against  the 

*  Story's  Impartial  History.  The  year  1684  had  been  considered  as  a  time  of 
remarkable  prosperity,  and  the  revenue  from  the  Customs  had  been  unusually 
Lxrge.  But  the  receipts  from  all  the  ports  of  Ireland,  during  the  whole  year,  was 
only  a  hundred  and  twenty-seven  thousand  pounds.  See  Clarendon's  Memoir?. 

t  Story's  History  and  Continuation ;  London  Gazettes  of  September  29, 1690 
aud  Jan.  8,  and  Mar.  12, 1G90-1. 

172  I        HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

malefactors,  who  had  with  them  the  sympathies  of  the  whole 
population.  On  such  occasions  the  government  sometimes  ven- 
tured on  acts  which  seemed  better  suited  to  a  Turkish  than  to 
an  English  administration.  One  of  these  acts  became  a  favourite 
theme  of  Jacobite  pamphleteers,  and  was  the  subject  of  a  serious 
parliamentary  enquiry  at  Westminster.  Six  musketeers  were 
found  butchered  only  a  few  miles  from  Dublin.  The  inhabit- 
ants of  the  village  where  the  crime  had  been  committed,  men, 
women,  and  children,  were  driven  like  sheep  into  the  Castle, 
where  the  Privy  Council  was  sitting.  The  heart  of  one  of  the 
assassins,  named  Gafney,  failed  him.  He  consented  to  be  a 
witness,  was  examined  by  the  Board,  acknowledged  his  guil,t 
and  named  some  of  his  accomplices.  He  was  then  removed  in 
custody :  but  a  priest  obtained  access  to  him  duiing  a  few  min- 
utes. What  passed  during  those  few  minutes  appeared  when 
he  was  a  second  time  brought  before  the  Council.  He  had  the 
effrontery  to  deny  that  he  had  owned  anything  or  accused  any- 
body. His  hearers,  several  of  whom  had  taken  down  his  con- 
fession in  writing,  were  enraged  at  his  impudence.  The  Lords 
Justices  broke  out ;  "  You  are  a  rogue  :  you  are  a  villain  :  you 
shall  be  hanged  :  where  is  the  Provost  Marshal  ?  "  The  Pro- 
vost Marshal  came.  "  Take  that  man,"  said  Coningsby,  point- 
ing to  Gafney  ;  "  take  that  man,  and  hang  him."  There  was 
no  gallows  ready  :  but  the  carriage  of  a  gun  served  the  purpose  ; 
and  the  prisoner  was  instantly  tied  up,  without  a  trial,  without 
even  a  written  order  for  the  execution  ;  and  this  though  the 
courts  of  law  were  sitting  at  the  distance  of  only  a  few  hundred 
yards.  The  English  House  of  Commons,  some  years  later,  after 
a  long  discussion,  resolved,  without  a  division,  that  the  order  for 
the  execution  of  Gafney  was  arbitrary  and  illegal,  but  that  Con- 
ingsby's  fault  was  so  much  extenuated  by  the  circumstances  in 
which  he  was  placed  that  it  was  not  a  proper  subject  for  im- 

*  See  the  Lords'  Journals  of  March  2,  and  4,  1692-3,  and  the  Commons'  Jour, 
nals  of  Dec.  16,  1693,  and  Jan.  29, 1693-4.  The  story,  bad  enough  at  best,  was  told 
by  the  personal  and  political  enemies  of  the  Lords  Justices  with  additions  which 
tlio  I fouse  of  Commons  evidently  considered  as,  calumnious,  and  which  I  really 
believe  to  have  been  so.  See  the  Gallienus  Redivivus.  The  narrative  which 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  173 

It  was  not  only  by  the  implacable  hostility  of  the  Irish  that 
the  Saxon  of  the  pale  was  at  this  time  harassed.  His  allies 
caused  him  almost  as  much  annoyance  as  his  helots.  The  help 
of  troops  from  abroad  was  indeed  necessary  to  him  :  but  it  was 
dearly  bought.  Even  William,  in  whom  the  whole  civil  and 
military  authority  was  concentrated,  had  found  it  difficult  to 
maintain  discipline  in  an  army  collected  from  many  lands,  and 
composed  in  great  part  of  mercenaries  accustomed  to  live  at 
free  quarter.  The  powers  which  had  been  united  in  him  were 
now  divided  and  subdivided.  The  two  Lords  Justices  con- 
sidered the  civil  administration  as  their  province,  and  left  the 
army  to  the  management  of  Ginkell,  who  was  General  in  Chief. 
Ginkell  kept  excellent  order  among  the  auxiliaries  from  Holland, 
who  were  under  his  more  immediate  command.  But  his  authority 
over  the  English  and  the  Danes  was  less  entire ;  and  unfortu- 
nately their  pay  was,  during  part  of  the  winter,  in  arrear.  They 
indemnified  themselves  by  excesses  and  exactions  for  the 
want  of  that  which  was  their  due  ;  and  it  was  hardly  possible 
to  punish  men  with  severity  for  not  choosing  to  starve  with  arms 
in  their  hands.  At  length  in  the  spring  large  supplies  of  money 
and  stores  arrived  :  arrears  were  paid  up  :  rations  were  plenti- 
ful ;  and  a  more  rigid  discipline  was  enforced.  But  too  many 
traces  of  the  bad  habits  which  the  soldiers  had  contracted  were 
discernible  till  the  close  of  the  war.* 

In  that  part  of  Ireland,  meanwhile,  which  still  acknowledged 
James  as  King,  there  could  hardly  be  said  to  be  any  law,  any 
property,  or  any  government.  The  Roman  Catholics  of  Ulster 
and  Leinster  had  fled  westward  by  tens  of  thousands,  driving 
before  them  a  large  part  of  the  cattle  which  had  escaped  the 
havoc  of  two  terrible  years.  The  influx  of  food  into  the  Celtic 
region,  however,  .was  far  from  keeping  pace  with  the  influx  of 
consumers.  The  necessaries  of  life  were  scarce.  Conveniences 
to  which  every  plain  farmer  and  burgess  in  England  was  accus- 

Colonel  Robert  Fitzgerald,  a  Privy  Councillor  and  an  eyewitness,  delivered  in 
willing  to  the  House  of  Lords,  under  the  sanction  of  an  oath,  seems  to  me  per- 
fectly trustworthy.    It  is  strange  that  Story,  though  he  mentions  the  murder  of 
the  soldiers,  says  nothing  about  Gafney. 
*  Burnet,  ii.  6(5 ;  Leslie's  answer  to  King. 


tomed  could  hardly  be  procured  by  nobles  and  generals.  No 
coin  was  to  be  seen  except  lumps  of  base  metal  which  were 
called  crowns  and  shillings.  Nominal  prices  were  enormously 
high.  A  quart  of  ale  cost  two  and  sixpence,  a  quart  of  brandy 
three  pounds.  The  only  towns  of  any  note  on  the  western  coast 
were  Limerick  and  Galway ;  and  the  oppression  which  the 
shokeepers  of  those  towns  underwent  was  such  that  many  of 
them  stole  away  with  the  remains  of  their  stocks  to  the  English 
territory,  where  a  Papist,  though  he  had  to  endure  much  re- 
straint and  much  humiliation,  was  allowed  to  put  his  own  price 
on  his  goods,  and  received  that  price  in  silver.  Those  traders 
who  remained  within  the  unhappy  region  were  ruined.  Every 
warehouse  that  contained  any  valuable  property  was  broken  open 
by  ruffians  who  pretended  that  they  were  commissioned  to  procure 
stores  for  the  public  service  ;  and  the  owner  received  in  return 
for  bales  of  cloth  and  hogsheads  of  sugar  some  fragments  of  old 
kettles  and  saucepans  which  would  not  in  London  or  Paris  have 
been  taken  by  a  beggar.  As  soon  as  a  merchant  ship  arrived 
in  the  bay  of  Galway  or  in  the  Shannon,  she  was  boarded  by 
these  robbers.  The  cargo  was  carried  away  ;  and  the  proprietor 
was  forced  to  content  himself  with  such  a  quantity  of  cowhides, 
of  wool,  and  of  tallow  as  the  gang  which  had  plundered  him 
chose  to  give  him.  The  consequence  was,  that  while  foreign 
commodities  were  pouring  fast  into  the  harbours  of  Londonderry, 
Carrickfergus,  Dublin,  Waterford,  and  Cork,  every  mariner 
avoided  Limerick  and  Galway  as  nests  of  pirates.* 

The  distinction  between  the  Irish  foot  soldier  and  the  Irish 
Rapparee  had  never  been  very  strongly  marked.  It  now  dis- 
appeared. Great  part  of  the  army  was  turned  loose  to  live  by 
marauding.  An  incessant  predatory  war  raged  along  the  line 
which  separated  the  domain  of  William  from  that  of  James. 
Every  day  companies  of  freebooters,  sometimes  wrapped  in 
twisted  straw  which  served  the  purpose  of  armour,  stole  into  the 

*  Macariae  Excidium  ;  Fumeron  to  Louvois.  J  — r-  1691.    Tt  is  to  be  observed 

'  Feb  hi. 

that  Kelly,  the  author  of  the  Macarife  Excidium,  and  Fumeron,  the  French  in- 
tendant,  are  most  unexceptionable  witnesses.  They  were  both  at  this  time  within 
the  walls  of  Limerick.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  the  impartiality  of  the  French- 
man ;  and  the  Irishman  was  partial  to  his  owu  countrymen. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  175 

English  territory,  burned,  sacked,  pillaged,  and  hastened  back  to 
their  own  ground.  To  guard  against  these  incursions  was  not 
easy,  for  the  peasantry  of  the  plundered  country  had  a  strong 
fellow  feeling  with  the  plunderers.  To  empty  the  granary,  to 
set  fire  to  the  dwelling,  to  drive  away  the  cows,  of  a  heretic  was 
regarded  by  every  squalid  inhabitant  of  a  mud  cabin  as  a  good 
work.  A  troop  engaged  in  such  a  work  might  Confidently  ex- 
pect to  fall  in,  notwithstanding  all  the  proclamations  of  the 
Lords  Justices,  with  some  friend  who  would  indicate  the  richest 
booty,  the  shortest  road,  and  the  safest  hidingplace.  The  Eng- 
lish complained  that  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  catch  a  Rapparee. 
Sometimes,  when  he  saw  danger  approaching,  he  lay  down  in 
the  long  grass  of  the  bog,  and  then  it  was  as  difficult  to  find  him 
as  to  find  a  hare  sitting.  Sometimes  he  sprang  into  a  stream, 
and  lay  there,  like  an  otter,  with  only  his  mouth  and  nostrils 
above  the  water.  Nay,  a  whole  gang  of  banditti  would,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  transform  itself  into  a  crowd  of  harmless 
labourers.  Every  man  took  his  gun  to  pieces,  hid  the  lock  in 
his  clothes,  stuck  a  cork  in  the  muzzle,  stopped  the  touch  hole 
with  a  quill,  and  threw  the  weapon  into  the  next  pond.  Nothing 
was  to  be  seen  but  a  train  of  poor  rustics,  who  had  not  so  much 
as  a  cudgel  among  them,  and  whose  humble  look  and  crouching 
walk  seemed  to  show  that  their  spirit  was  thoroughly  broken  to 
slavery.  When  the  peril  was  over,  when  the  signal  was  given, 
every  man  flew  to  the  place  where  he  had  hid  his  arms,  and 
soon  the  robbers  were  in  full  march  towards  some  Protestant 
mansion.  One  band  penetrated  to  Clonmel,  another  to  the 
vicinity  of  Maryborough :  a  third  made  its  den  in  a  woody  islet 
of  firm  ground,  surrounded  by  the  vast  bog  of  Allen,  harried  the 
county  of  Wicklow,  and  alarmed  even  the  suburbs  of  Dublin. 
Such  expeditions  indeed  were  not  always  successful.  Sometimes 
the  plunderers  fell  in  with  parties  of  militia,  or  with  detachments 
from  the  English  garrisons,  in  situations  in  which  disguise,  flight, 
and  resistance  were  alike  impossible.  When  this  happened, 
every  kerne  who  was  taken  was  hanged,  without  any  ceremony, 
on  the  nearest  tree.* 

*  Story's  Impartial  History  and  Continuation,  and  the  London  Gazettes  of  De 
cember,  January,  February,  and  March  1690-1.  _ 


At  the  headquarters  of  the  Irish  army  there  was,  during  the 
•winter,  no  authority  capable  of  exacting  obedience  even  within 
a  circle  of  a  mile.  Tyrconnel  was  absent  at  the  Court  of  PYance. 
He  had  left  the  supreme  government  in  the  hands  of  a  Council 
of  Regency  composed  of  twelve  persons.  The  nominal  com- 
mand of  the  army  he  had  confided  to  Berwick ;  but  Berwick, 
though,  as  was  afterwards  proved,  a  man  of  no  common  courage 
and  capacity,  was  young  and  inexperienced.  His  powers  were 
unsuspected  by  the  world  and  by  himself  :  *  and  he  submitted 
without  reluctance  to  the  tutelage  of  a  Council  of  War  nomi- 
nated by  the  Lord  Lieutenant.  Neither  the  Council  of  Regency 
nor  the  Council  of  War  was  popular  at  Limerick.  The  Irish 
complained  that  men  who  were  not  Irish  had  been  entrusted 
with  a  large  share  in  the  administration.  The  cry  was  loudest 
against  an  officer  named  Thomas  Maxwell.  For  it  was  certain 
that  he  was  a  Scotchman  ;  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  was  a 
Roman  Catholic ;  and  he  had  not  concealed  the  dislike  which  he 
felt  for  that  Celtic  Parliament  which  had  repealed  the  Act  of  Set- 
tlement and  passed  the  Act  of  Attainder.!  The  discontent,  fo- 
mented by  the  arts  of  intriguers,  among  whom  the  cunning  and  un- 
principled Henry  Luttrell  seems  to  have  been  the  most  active,  soon 
broke  forth  into  open  rebellion.  A  great  meeting  was  held. 
Many  officers  of  the  army,  some  peers,  some  lawyers  of  high 
note,  and  some  prelates  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  were 
present.  It  was  resolved  that  the  government  set  up  by  the 
Lord  Lieutenant  was  unknown  to  the  constitution.  Ireland,  it 
was  said,  could  be  legally  governed,  in  the  absence  of  the  King, 
only  by  a  Lord  Lieutenant,  by  a  Lord  Deputy,  or  by  Lords 
Justices.  The  King  was  absent.  The  Lord  Lieutenant  'was 
absent.  There  was  no  Lord  Deputy.  There  were  no  Lords 
Justices.  The  edict  by  which  Tyrconnel  had  delegated  his 
authority  to  a  junto  composed  of  his  creatures  was  a  mere 

*  It  is  remarkable  that  Avaux,  though  a  very  shrewd  judge  of  men,  greatly 
underrated  Berwick.  In  a  letter  to  Louvois  dated  Oct.  15-25,  1689,  Avaux  says  : 
"  Je  ne  puis  m'empescher  de  vois  dire  qu'il  est  brave  de  sa  persone,  a  ce  que  1'on 
dit,  mais  que  c'est  nil  aussy  mediant  officier  qu'il  y  en  ayt,  et  qu'il  n'a  pas  le 
sens  commum." 

t  Leslie's  answer  to  King  ;  Macarise  Excidiurn. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  177 

nullity.  The  nation  was  therefore  left  without  any  legitimate 
chief,  and  might,  without  violating  the  allegiance  due  to  the 
Crown,  make  temporary  provision  for  its  own  safety.  A  depu- 
tation was  sent  to  inform  Berwick  that  he  had  assumed  a  power 
to  which  he  had  no  right,  but  that  nevertheless  the  army 
and  people  of  Ireland  would  willingly  acknowledge  him  as  their 
head  if  he  would  consent  to  govern  by  the  advice  of  a  council 
truly  Irish.  Berwick  indignantly  expressed  his  wonder  that 
military  men  should  presume  to  meet  and  deliberate  without  the 
permission  of  their  general.  The  deputies  answered  that  there 
was  no  general,  and  that,  if  His  Grace  did  not  choose  to  under- 
take the  administration  on  the  terms  proposed,  another  leader 
would  easily  be  found.  Berwick  very  reluctantly  yielded,  and 
continued  to  be  a  puppet  in  a  new  set  of  hands.* 

Those  who  had  effected  this  revolution  thought  it  prudent 
to  send  a  deputation  to  France  for  the  purpose  of  vindicating 
their  proceedings.  Of  this  deputation  the  Roman  Catholic 
Bishop  of  Cork  and  the  two  Luttrells  were  members.  In  the 
ship  which  conveyed  them  from  Limerick  to  Brest  they  found  a 
fellow  passenger  whose  presence  was  by  no  means  agreeable 
to  them,  their  enemy,  Maxwell.  They  suspected,  and  not  with- 
out reason,  that  he  was  going,  like  them,  to  Saint  Germains, 
but  on  a  very  different  errand.  The  truth  was  that  Berwick 
had  sent  Maxwell  to  watch  their  motions  and  to  traverse  their 
designs.  Henry  Luttrell,  the  least  scrupulous  of  men,  proposed 
to  settle  the  matter  at  once  by  tossing  the  Scotchman  into  the 
sea.  But  the  Bishop,  who  was  a  man  of  conscience,  and  Simon 
Luttrell,  who  was  a  man  of  honour,  objected  to  this  expedi- 

Meanwhile  at  Limerick  the  supreme  power  was  in  abey- 
ance. Berwick,  finding  that  he  had  no  real  authority,  altogether 
neglected  business,  and  gave  himself  up  to  such  pleasures  as 
that  dreary  place  of  banishment  afforded.  There  was  among 
the  Irish  chiefs  no  man  of  sufficient  weight  and  ability  to  con- 
trol the  rest.  Sarsfield  for  a  time  took  the  lead.  But  Sars- 

*  Macariae  Excidium. 

t  Macarije  Excidium  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  422 ;  Memoirs  of  Berwick. 

VOL.  IV.— 12 

178  -HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

field,  though  eminently  brave  and  active  in  the  field,  was  little 
skilled  in  the  administration  of  war,  and  still  less  skilled  in 
civil  business.  Those  who  were  most  desirous  to  support  his 
authority  were  forced  to  own  that  his  nature  was  too  unsuspi- 
cious and  indulgent  for  a  post  in  which  it  was  hardly  possible 
to  be  too  distrustful  or  too  severe.  He  believed  whatever  was 
told  him.  He  signed  whatever  was  set  before  him.  The  com- 
missaries, encouraged  by  his  lenity,  robbed  and  embezzled  more 
shamelessly  than  ever.  They  sallied  forth  daily,  guarded  by 
pikes  aud  firelocks,  to  seize,  nominally  for  the  public  service, 
but  really  for  themselves,  wool,  linen,  leather,  tallow,  domestic 
utensils,  instruments  of  husbandry,  searched  every  pantry,  every 
wardrobe,  every  cellar,  and  even  laid  sacrilegious  hands  on  the 
property  of  priests  and  prelates.* 

Early  in  the  spring  the  government,  if  it  is  to  be  so  called, 
of  which  Berwick  was  the  ostensible  head,  was  dissolved  by 
the  return  of  Tyrconuel.  The  Luttrells  had,  in  the  name  of 
their  countrymen,  implored  James  not  to  subject  so  loyal  a 
people  to  so  odious  and  incapable  a  viceroy.  Tyrconnel,  they 
said,  was  old  :  he  was  infirm :  he  needed  much  sleep :  he  knew 
nothing  of  war  :  he  was  dilatory :  he  was  partial :  he  was  rapacious: 
he  was  distrusted  and  hated  by  the  whole  nation.  The 
Irish,  deserted  by  him,  had  made  a  gallant  stand,  and  had 
compelled  the  victorious  army  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  to  re- 
treat. They  hoped  soon  to  take  the  field  again,  thirty  thousand 
strong ;  and  they  adjured  their  King  to  send  them  some  cap- 
tain worthy  to  command  such  a  force.  Tyrconnel  and  Maxwell, 
on  the  other  hand,  represented  the  delegates  as  mutineers, 
demagogues,  traitors,  and  pressed  James  to  send  Henry  Luttrell 
to  keep  Mountjoy  company  in  the  Bastille.  James,  bewilder- 
ed by  these  criminations  and  recriminations,  hesitated  long,  and  at 
last,  with  characteristic  wisdom,  relieved  himself  from  trouble 
by  giving  all  the  quarrellers  fair  words,  and  by  sending  them 
all  back  to  have  their  fight  out  in  Ireland.  Berwick  was  at  the 
same  time  recalled  to  France. | 

*  M.icarirfi  Excidium. 

t  Life  of  James,  ii.  422, 423 ;  Mtemoires  de  Berwick. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  179 

Tyrconnel  was  received  at  Limerick,  even  by  his  enemies, 
with  decent  respect.  Much  as  they  hated  him,  they  could  not 
question  the  validity  of  his  commission :  and  though  they  still 
maintained  that  they  had  been  perfectly  justified  in  annulling, 
during  his  absence,  the  unconstitutional  arrangements  which  he 
had  made,  they  acknowledged  that  when  he  was  present,  he 
was  their  lawful  governor.  He  was  not  altogether  unprovided 
with  the  means  of  conciliating  them.  He  brought  many  gra- 
cious messages  and  promises,  a  patent  of  peerage  for  Sarsfield, 
some  money  which  was  not  of  brass,  and  sflme  clothing,  which 
was  even  more  acceptable  than  money.  The  new  garments  were 
not  indeed  very  fine.  But  even  the  generals  had  long  been  out 
at  elbows  ;  and  there  were  few  of  the  common  men  whose  ha- 
biliments would  have  been  thought  sufficient  to  dress  a  scarerow 
in  a  more  prosperous  country.  Now,  at  length,  for  the  first 
time  in  many  months,  every  private  soldier  could  boast  of  a 
pair  of  breeches  and  a  pair  of  brogues.  The  Lord  Lieutenant 
had  also  been  authorised  to  announce  that  he  should  soon  be 
followed  by  several  ships,  laden  with  provisions  and  military 
stores.  This  announcement  was  most  welcome  to  the  troops, 
who  had  long  been  without  bread,  and  who  had  nothing  stronger 
than  water  to  drink.* 

During  some  weeks  the  supplies  were  impatiently  expected. 
At  last,  Tyrconnel  was  forced  to  shut  himself  up :  for,  whenever 
he  appeared  in  public,  the  soldiers  ran  after  him  clamouring  for 
food.  Even  the  beef  and  mutton,  which,  half  raw,  half  burned, 
without  vegetables,  without  salt,  had  hitherto  supported  the 
army,  had  become  scarce ;  and  the  common  men  were  on  rations 
of  horseflesh  when  the  promised  sails  were  seen  in  the  mouth 
of  the  Shannon.f 

A  distinguished  French  general,  named  Saint  Ruth,  was  on 
board  with  his  staff.  He  brought  a  commission  which  appointed 
him  commander  in  chief  of  the  Irish  army.  The  commission 
did  not  <  xpressly  declare  (^iat  he  was  to  be  independent  of  the 

*  Life  of  James,  ii.  433,451 :  Story's  Continuation. 

t  Life  of  James,  ii.  438 ;  Light  to  the  Blind  j  Fumeron  to  Louvois,  -j^L  P 


viceregal  authority  :  but  he  had  been  assured  by  James  that 
Tyrconnel  should  have  secret  instructions  not  to  intermeddle  in 
the  conduct  of  the  war.  Saint  Ruth  was  assisted  by  another 
general  officer  named  D'Usson.  The  French  ships  brought  some 
arms,  some  ammunition,  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  corn  and  flour. 
The  spirits  of  the  Irish  rose  ;  and  the  Te  Deum  was  chaunted 
with  fervent  devotion  in  the  cathedral  of  Limerick. f 

Tyrconnel  had  made  no  preparations  for  the  approaching 
campaign.  But  Saint  Ruth,  as  soon  as  he  had  landed,  exerted 
himself  strenuously,  to  redeem  the  time  which  had  been  lost. 
He  was  a  man  of  courage,  activity,  and  resolution,  but  of  a 
harsh  and  imperious  nature.  In  his  own  country  he  was  cele- 
brated as  the  most  merciless  persecutor  that  had  ever  dra- 
gooned the  Huguenots  to  mass.  It  was  asserted  by  English 
Whigs  that  he  was  known  in  France  by  the  nickname  of  the 
Hangman  ;  that,  at  Rome,  the  very  cardinals  had  shown  their 
abhorrence  of  his  cruelty ;  and  that  even  Queen  Christina,  who 
had  little  right  to  be  squeamish  about  bloodshed,  had  turned 
away  from  him  with  loathing.  He  had  recently  held  a  com- 
mand in  Savoy.  The  Irish  regiments  in  the  French  service 
had  formed  part  of  his  army,  and  had  behaved  extremely  well. 
It  was  therefore  supposed  that  he  had  a  peculiar  talent  for 
managing  Irish  troops.  But  there  was  a  wide  difference  be- 
tween the  well  clad,  well  armed,  and  well  drilled  Irish,  with 
whom  he  was  familiar,  and  the  ragged  marauders  whom  he 
found  swarming  in  the  alleys  of  Limerick.  Accustomed  to  the 
splendour  and  to  the  discipline  of  French  camps  and  garrisons, 
he  was  disgusted  by  finding  that  in  the  country  to  which  he  had 
been  sent,  a  regiment  of  infantry  meant  a  mob  of  people  as 
naked,  as  dirty,  and  as  disorderly  as  the  beggars,  whom  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  see  on  the  Continent  besieging  the  door  of 
a  monastery  or  pursuing  a  diligence  up  hill.  With  ill  concealed 
contempt,  however,  he  addressed  himself  vigorously  to  the  task  of 
disciplining  these  strange  soldiers,  and  was  day  and  night  in  the 
saddle,  galloping  from  post  to  .post,  from  Limerick  to  Athlone, 

*  Macariee  Excidium  ;  Memoires  de  Berwick  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  451 ,  452. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  181 

from  Athlone  to  the  northern  extremity  of  Loughrea,  and  from 
Loughrea  buck  to  Limerick.* 

It  was  indeed  necessary  that  he  should  bestir  himself :  for, 
a  few  days  after  his  arrival,  he  learned  that,  on  the  other  Side 
of  the  Pale,  all  was  ready  for  action.  The  greater  part  of  the 
English  force  was  collected,  before  the  close  of  May,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Mullingar.  Ginkell  commanded  in  chief. 
He  had  under  him  the  two  best  officers,  after  Maryborough,  of 
whom  our  island  could  then  boast,  Talmash  and  Mackay.  The 
Marquess  of  Ruvigny,  the  hereditary  chief  of  the  refugees,  and 
elder  brother  of  that  brave  Caillemot  who  had  fallen  at  the 
Boyne,  had  joined  the  army  with  the  rank  of  major  general. 
The  Lord  Justice  Coningsby,  though  not  by  profession  a  soldier, 
came  down  from  Dublin,  to  animate  the  zeal  of  the  troops.  The 
appearance  of  the  camp  showed  that  the  money  voted  by 
the  English  Parliament  had  not  been  spared.  The  uniforms 
were  new:  the  ranks  were  one  blaze  of  scarlet;  and  the  train 
of  artillery  was  such  as  had  never  before  been  seen  in  Ireland. f 

On  the  sixth  of  June  Ginkell  moved  his  headquarters  from 
Mullingar.  On  the  seventh  he  reached  Ballymore.  At  Bally- 
more,  on  a  peninsula  almost  surrounded  by  something  between 
a  swamp  and  a  lake,  stood  an  ancient  fortress,  which  had  re- 
cently been  fortified  under  Sarsfield's  direction,  and  which  was 
defended  by  above  a  thousand  men.  The  English  guns  were 
instantly  planted.  In  a  few  hours  the  beseigers  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  the  besieged  running  like  rabbits  from  one  shelter 
to  another.  The  governor,  who  had  at  first  held  high  language, 
begged  piteously  for  quarter,  and  obtained  it.  The  whole  garri- 
son was  marched  off  to  Dublin.  Only  eight  of  the  conquerors 
had  fallen.^ 

Giukell  passed  some  days  in  reconstructing  the  defences  of 

*  Macariae  Excidium ;  Burnet,  ii.  78 ;  Dangeau  ;  The  Mercurius  Reformatus, 
June  5,  1691. 

t  An  exact  journal  of  the  victorious  progress  of  Their  Majesties'  forces  nnder 
the  command  of  General  Ginckle  this  summer  in  Ireland,  1691  ;  Story's  Continua- 
tion ;  Mackay's  Memoirs. 

t  London  Gazette.  June  18,  22, 1(591 ;  Storv's  Continuation  ;  Life  of  James,  ii 
452.  The  author  of  the  Life  accuses  the  Governor  of  treachery  or  cowardice. 


Ballymore.  This  work  had  scarcely  been  performed  when  h? 
was  joined  by  the  Danish  auxiliaries  under  the  command  of  the 
Duke  of  Wurtemburg.  The  whole  army  then  moved  westward, 
and^on  the  nineteenth  of  June,  appeared  before  the  walls  of 

Athlone  was  perhaps,  in  a  military  point  of  view,  the  most 
important  place  in  the  island.  Rosen,  who  understood  war  well, 
had  always  maintained  that  it  was  there  that  the  Irishry  would, 
with  most  advantage,  make  a  stand  against  the  Englishry.f  The 
town,  which  was  surrounded  by  ramparts  of  earth,  lay  partly  in 
in  Leinster  and  partly  in  Connaught.  The  English  quarter, 
which  was  in  Leinster,  had  once  consisted  of  new  and  handsome 
houses,  but  had  been  burnt  by  the  Irish  some  months  before, 
and  now  lay  in  heaps  of  ruin.  The  Celtic  quarter,  which  was 
in  Connaught,  was  old  and  meanly  built. t  The  Shannon,  which 
is  the  boundary  of  the  two  provinces,  rushed  through  Athlone 
in  a  deep  and  rapid  stream,  and  turned  two  large  mills  which 
rose  on  the  arches  of  a  stone  bridge.  Above  the  bridge,  on  the 
Conuaught  side,  a  castle,  built,  it  was  said,  by  King  John,  tow- 
ered to  the  height  of  seventy  feet,  and  extended  two  hundred 
feet  along  the  river.  Fifty  or  sixty  yards  below  the  bridge  was 
a  narrow  ford.§ 

During  the  night  of  the  nineteenth  the  English  placed  their 
cannon.  On  the  morning  of  the  twentieth  the  firing  began. 
At  five  in  the  afternoon  an  assault  was  made.  A  brave  French 
refugee  with  a  grenade  in  his  hand  was  the  first  to  climb  the 
breach,  and  fell,  cheering  his  countrymen  to  the  onset  with  his 

*  London  Gazette,  Juiie  22,  25,  July  2,  1691 ;  Story's  Continuation ;  Exact 

t  Life  of  James,  ii.  373,  376,  377. 

J  Macarise  Excidium.  I  may  observe  that  this  is  one  of  the  many  passages 
•which  lead  me  to  believe  the  Latin  text  to  be  the  original.  The  Latin  is,  "  Oppi- 
dum  ad  Salaiujnium  amiiis  latus  recentibus  ac  sumptuosioribus  sedificiis  attolle- 
batur  ;  antiquius  et  ipsa  vetustate  incultius  quod  in  Paphiis  tinibus  exstructura 
erat."  The  English  version  is,  "  The  town  on  Salaminia  side  was  better  built 
than  that  in  Paphia."  Surely  there  is  in  the  Latin  the  particularity  which  we 
might  expect  from  a  person  who  had  known  Athlone  before  the  war.  The  Eng- 
Ush  version  is  contemptibly  bad.  I  need  hardly  say  that  the  Paphian  side  is 
'onnaught,  and  the  Salaininian  side  Leinster. 

§  1  have  consulted  several  contemporary  maps  of  Athlone.  One  will  be  found 
in  Story's  Continuation. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  183 

latest  breath.  Such  were  the  gallant  spirits  which  the  bigotry 
of  Lewis  had  sent  to  recruit,  in  the  time  of  his  utmost  need,  the 
armies  of  his  deadliest  enemies.  The  example  was  not  lost. 
The  grenades  fell  thick.  •  The  assailants  mounted  hy  hundreds. 
The  Irish  gave  way  and  ran  towards  the  bridge.  There  the 
press  was  so  great  that  some  of  the  fugitives  were  crushed  to 
death  in  the  narrow  passage,  and  others  were  forced  over  the 
parapets  into  the  waters  which  roared  among  the  mill  wheels 
below.  In  a  few  hours  Ginkell  had  made  himself  master  of  the 
English  quarter  of  Athlone  ;  and  this  success  had  cost  him  only 
twenty  men  killed  and  forty  wounded.* 

But  his  work  was  only  begun.  Between  him  and  the  Irish 
town  the  Shannon  ran  fiercely.  The  bridge  was  so  narrow  that 
a  few  resolute  men  might  keep  it  against  an  army.  The  mills 
which  stood  on  it  were  strongly  guarded  ;  and  it  was  commanded 
by  the  guns  of  the  cattle.  That  part  of  the  Connaught  shore 
where  the  river  was  fordable  was  defended  by  works,  which  the 
Lord  Lieutenant  had,  in  spite  of  the  murmurs  of  a  powerful 
party,  forced  Saint  Ruth  to  entrust  to  the  care  of  Maxwell. 
Maxwell  had  come  back  from  France  a  more  unpopular  man 
than  he  had  been  when  he  went  thither.  It  was  rumoured  that 
he  had,  at  Versailles,  spoken  opprobriously  of  the  Irish  nation ; 
ami  he  had,  on  this  account,  been  only  a  few  days  before,  pub- 
licly affronted  by  Sarsfield.f  On  the  twenty-first  of  June  the 
English  were  busied  in  flinging  up  batteries  along  the  Leinster 
bank.  On  the  twenty-second,  soon  after  dawn,  the  cannonade 

*  Diary  of  the  siege  of  Athlone,  by  an  Engineer  of  the  Anny,  a  Witness  of  the 
Action,  licensed  July  11,  1691 ;  Story's  Continuation ;  London  Gazette,  July  2, 

1C91 :  Fumeron  to  Louvois,  -rT— s^  1691.    The  account  of  this  attack  in  the  Life 

J  uly  o, 

of  James,  ii.  453,  is  an  absurd  romance..,  It  does  not  appear  to  have  been  taken 
from  the  King's  original  Memoirs,  or  to  have  been  revised  by  his  son. 

t  Maearise  Exculium.  Here  again  I  think  that  I  see  clear  proof  that  the  Eng- 
lish version  of  this  curious  work  is  only  a  bad  translation  from  the  Latin.  The 
English  merely  says  :  "  Lysander," — Sarsfleld, — "  accused  him,  a  few  days  be- 
fore, in  the  general's  presence."  without  intimating  what  the  accusation  was. 
The  Latin  original  runs  thus  :  "  Acriter  Lysander,  paucos  ante  dies,  coram  prae- 
fe;-to  copiarurn  illi  exprobraverat  nescio  quid,  quod  in  aula  Syriaca  in  Cyprionim 
opprobrium  effutivisse  dicebatur."  The  English  translator  has  by  omitting  the 
most  irnnortant  words,  and  by  using  the  aorist  instead  of  the  pret«rpluperfect 
tense,  made  the  whole  passage  unmeaning. 


began.  The  firing  continued  all  that  day  and  all  the  following 
night.  When  morning  broke  again,  one  whole  side  of  the  cas- 
tle had  been  beaten  down  :  the  thatched  lanes  of  the  Celtic  town 
lay  in  ashes  :  and  one  of  the  mills  had  been  burned  with  sixty 
soldiers  who  had  been  posted  in  it.* 

Still  however  the  Irish  defended  the  bridge  resolutely. 
During  several  days  there  was  sharp  fighting  hand  to  hand  in 
the  strait  passage.  The  assailants  gained  ground,  but  gained  it 
inch  by  inch.  The  courage  of  the  garrison  was  sustained  by  the 
hope  of  speedy  succour.  Saint  Ruth  had  at  length  completed 
his  preparations  ;  and  the  tidings  that  Athlone  was  in  danger 
had  induced  him  to  take  the  field  in  haste  at  the  head  of  an  army, 
superior  in  number,  though  inferior  in  more  important  elements 
of  military  strength,  to  the  army  of  Ginkell.  The  French 
general  seems  to  have  thought  that  the  bridge  and  the  fort  might 
easily  be  defended,  till  the  autumnal  rains,  and  the  pestilence 
which  ordinarily  accompanied  them,  should  compel  the  enemy  to 
retire.  He  therefore  contented  himself  with  sending  successive 
detachments  to  reinforce  the  garrison.  The  immediate  conduct 
of  the  defence  he  entrusted  to  his  second  in  command,  D'Usson, 
and  fixed  his  own  headquarters  two  or  three  miles  from  the 
town.  He  expressed  his  astonishment  that  so  experienced  a 
commander  as  Ginkell  should  persist  in  a  hopeless  enterpris,e. 
"  His  master  ought  to  hang  him  for  trying  to  take  Athloue  ; 
and  mine  ought  to  hang  me  if  I  lose  it."  f 

Saint  Ruth,  however,  was  by  no  means  at  ease.  He  had 
found,  to  his  great  mortification,  that  he  had  not  the  full  authority 
which  the  promises  made  to  him  at  Saint  Germains  had  entitled 
him  to  expect.  The  Lord  Lieutenant  was  in  the  camp.  His 
bodily  and  mental  infirmities  had  perceptibly  increased  within 
the  last  few  weeks.  The  slow  and  uncertain  step  with  which 
he,  who  had  once  been  renowned  for  vigour  and  agility,  now 
tottered  from  his  easy  chair  to  his  couch,  was  no  unapt  typs  of 

*  Story's  Continuation  ;  Macariae  Excidlum  ;  Daniel  Macneal  to  Sir  Arthur 
Rawdon,  June  28,  1691,  in  the  Eawdon  Papers. 

t  London  Gazette,  July  6,  1691;  Story's  Continuation;  Macariae  Excidium ; 
Light  to  the  Blind. 


the  sluggish  and  wavering  movement  of  that  mind  which  had 
ouce  pursued  its  objects  with  a  vehemence  restrained  neither  by 
fear  nor  by  pity,  neither  by  conscience  nor  by  shame.  Yet, 
with  impaired  strength,  both  physical  and  intellectual,  the  broken 
old  man  clung  pertinaciously  to  power.  If  he  had  received  pri- 
vate orders  not  to  meddle  with  the  conduct  of  the  war,  he 
disregarded  them.  He  assumed  all  the  authority  of  a  sovereign, 
showed  himself  ostentatiously  to  the  troops  as  their  supreme 
chief,  and  affected  to  treat  Saint  Ruth  as  a  lieutenant.  Soon 
the  interference  of  the  Viceroy  excited  the  vehement  indignation 
of  that  powerful  party  in  the  army  which  had  long  hated  him. 
Many  officers  signed  an  instrument  by  which  they  declared  that 
they  did  not  consider  him  as  entitled  to  their  obedience  in  the 
field.  Some  of  them  offered  him  gross  personal  insults.  He 
was  told  to  his  face  that,  if  he  persisted  in  remaining  where  he 
was  not  wanted,  the  ropes  of  his  pavilion  should  be  cut.  He, 
on  the  other  hand,  sent  his  emissaries  to  all  the  camp  fires,  and 
tried  to  make  a  party  among  the  common  soldiers  against  the 
French  general.* 

The  only  thing  in  \vhLh  Tyrconnel  and  Saint  Ruth  agreed 
was  in  dreading  and  disliking  Sarsfield.  Not  only  was  he  popular 
with  the  great  body  of  his  countrymen  ;  he  was  also  surrounded 
by  a  knot  of  retainers  whose  devotion  to  him  resembled  the 
devotion  of  the  Ismailite  murderers  to  the  Old  Man  of  the  Moun- 
tain. It  was  known  that  one  of  these  fanatics,  a  colonel,  had 
used  language  which,  in  the  mouth  of  an  officer  so  high  in  rank, 
might  well  cause  uneasiness.  "  The  King,"  this  man  had  said, 
"  is  nothing  to  me.  I  obey  Sarsfield.  Let  Sarsfield  tell  me  to 
stab  any  man  in  the  whole  army  ;  and  I  will  do  it."  Sarsfield 
was,  indeed,  too  honourable  a  gentleman  to  abuse  his  immense 
power  over  the  minds  of  his  worshippers.  But  the  Viceroy  and 
the  Commander  in  Chief  might  not  unnaturally  be  disturbed  by 
the  thought  that  Sarsfield's  honour  was  their  only  guarantee 
against  mutiny  and  assassination.  The  consequence  was  that 
at  the  crisis  of  the  fate  of  Ireland,  the  services  of  the  first  of 
Irish  soldiers  were  not  used,  or  were  used  with  jealous  caution, 

*  Macarise  Excidium  ;  Light  to  the  Blind. 


and  that,  if  he  ventured  to  offer  a  suggestion,  it  was  received 
with  a  sneer  or  a  frown.* 

A  great  and  unexpected  disaster  put  an  end  to  these  disputes. 
On  the  thirtieth  of  June  Ginkell  called  a  council  of  war.  For- 
age began  to  be  scarce  ;  and  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that 
the  besiegers  should  either  force  their  way  across  the  river  or 
retreat.  The  difficulty  of  effecting  a  passage  over  the  shattered 
remains  of  the  bridge  seemed  almost  insuperable.  It  was  pro- 
posed to  try  the  ford.  The  Duke  of  Wurtemberg,  Talmash, 
and  Ruvigny  gave  their  voices  in  favour  of  this  plan  ;  and 
Ginkell,  with  some  misgivings,  consented.f 

It  was  determined  that  the  attempt  should  be  made  that 
yery  afternoon.  The  Irish,  fancying  that  the  English  were 
about  to  retreat,  kept  guard  carelessly.  Part  of  the  garrison 
was  idling,  part  dozing.  D'Usson  was  at  table.  Saint  Ruth 
was  in  his  tent,  writing  a  letter  to  his  master  filled  with  charges 
against  Tyrconnel.  Meanwhile,  fifteen  hundred  grenadiers, 
each  wearing  in  his  hat  a  green  bough,  were  mustered  on  the 
Leiuster  bank  of  the  Shannon.  Many  of  them  doubtless  remem- 
bered that  on  that  day  year  they  had,  at  the  command  of  King 
William,  put  green  boughs  in  their  hats  on  the  banks  of  the 
Boyne.  Guineas  had  been  liberally  scattered  among  these 
picked  men  :  but  their  alacrity  was  such  as  gold  cannot  purchase. 
Six  battalions  were  in  readiness  to  support  the  attack.  Mackay 
commanded.  He  did  not  approve  of  the  plan  :  but  he  executed 
it  as  zealously  and  energetically  as  if  he  had  himself  been  the 
author  of  it.  The  Duke  of  Wurtemberg,  Talmash,  and  several 
other  gallant  offiaers,  to  whom  no  part  in  the  enterprise  had 
been  assigned,  insisted  on  serving  that  day  as  private  volunteers  ; 
and  their  appearance  iu  the  ranks  excited  the  fiercest  enthusiasm 
among  the  soldiers. 

It  was  six  o'clock.  A  peal  from  the  steeple  of  the  church 
gave  the  signal.  Prince  George  of  Hesse  Darmstadt,  and  a 
brave  soldier  named  Hamilton,  whose  services  were  afterwards 

*  Life  of  James,  ii.  460  ;  Life  of  William,  1702. 

t  Story's  Continuation ;  Mackay's  Memoirs ;  Exact  Journal ;  Diary  of  the 
Siege  of  Athlone. 

WILLIA3I    AND    MART.  187 

rewarded  with  the  title  of  Lord  Boyne,  descended  first  into  the 
Shannon.  Then  the  grenadiers  lifted  the  Duke*of  Wurtemberg 
on  their  shoulders,  and,  with  a  great  shout,  plunged  twenty 
abreast  up  to  their  cravats  in  water.  The  stream  ran  deep  and 
strong :  but  in  a  few  minutes  the  Lead  of  the  column  reached 
dry  land.  Talmash  was  the  fifth  man  that  set  foot  on  the  Con- 
naught  shore.  The  Irish,  taken  unprepared,  fired  one  confused 
volley  and  fled,  leaving  their  commander,  Maxwell,  a  prisoner. 
The  conquerors  clambered  up  the  bank  over  the  remains  of 
walls  shattered  by  a  cannonade  of  ten  days.  Mackay  heard 
his  men  cursing  and  swearing  as  they  stumbled  among  the  rub- 
bish. "  My  lads,"  cried  the  stout  old  Puritan  in  the  midst  of 
the  uproar,  "  you  are  brave  fellows  :  but  do  not  swear.  We 
have  more  reason  to  thank  God  for  the  goodness  which  He  has 
shown  us  this  day  than  to  take  His  name  in  vain."  The  victory 
was  complete.  Planks  were  placed  on  the  broken  arches  of 
the  bridge,  and  pontoons  laid  on  the  river  without  any  opposition 
on  the  part  of  the  terrified  garrison.  With  the  loss  of  twelve 
men  killed  and  about  thirty  wounded  the  English  had,  in  a  few 
minutes,  forced  their  way  into  Connaught.*. 

At  the  first  alarm  D'Usson  hastened  towards  the  river ;  but 
he  was  met,  swept  away,  trampled  down,  and  almost  killed  by 
the  torrent  of  fugitives.  He  was  carried  to  the  camp  in  such  a 
state  that  it  was  necessary  to  bleed  him.  "  Taken  !  "  cried 
Saint  Ruth,  in  dismay.  "  It  cannot  be.  A  town  taken,  and  I 
close  by  with  an  army  to  relieve  it !  "  Cruelly  mortified,  he  struck 
his  tents  under  cover  of  the  night,  and  retreated  in  the  direction 
of  Galway.  At  dawn  the  English  saw  far  off,  from  the  top  of 
King  John's  ruined  castle,  the  Irish  army  moving  through  the 
dreary  region  which  separates  the  Shannon  from  the  Suck. 
Before  noon  the  rear-guard  had  disappeared.! 

Even  before  the  loss  of  Athlone  the  Celtic  camp  had  been 

«  Story's  Continuation  ;  Macariae  Excidium  ;  Bnrnet,  ii.  78,  79  ;  London  Ga- 
zette, July  6, 131689  ;  Fumeron  to  Louvois,  ^  ^'  1690 ;  Diary  of  the  siege  of 
Athlone ;  Exact  Account. 

t  Story's  Continuation  ;   Life  of  James,  ii.  455  ;  Fumeron  to  Louvois,  '- 
1691 ;  London  Gazette,  July  13. 


distracted  by  factions.  It  may  easily  be  supposed,  therefore, 
that,  after  so  gYeat  a  disaster,  nothing  was'  to  be  heard  but 
crimination  and  recrimination.  The  enemies  of  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant were  more  clamorous  than  ever.  He  and  his  creatures 
had  brought  the  kingdom  to  the  verge  of  perdition.  He  would 
meddle  with  what  he  did  not  understand.  He  would  overrule 
the  plans  of  men  who  were  real  soldiers.  He  would  entrust 
the  most  important  of  all  posts  to  his  tool,  his  spy,  the  wretched 
Maxwell,  not  a  born  Irishman,  not  a  sincere  Catholic,  at  best  a 
blunderer,  and  too  probably  a  traitor.  Maxwell,  it  was  affirmed, 
had  left  his  men  unprovided  with  ammunition.  "When  they 
had  applied  to  him  for  powder  and  ball,  he  had  asked  whether 
they  wanted  to  shoot  larks.  Just  before  the  attack  he  had  told 
them  to  go  to  their  supper  and  to  take  their  rest,  for  that  noth- 
ing more  would  be  done  that  day.  When  he  had  delivered 
himself  up  a  prisoner,  he  had  uttered  some  words  which  seemed 
to  indicate  a  previous  understanding  with  the  conquerors.  The 
Lord  Lieutenant's  few  friends  told  a  very  different  story.  Ac- 
cording to  them,  Tyrconnel  and  Maxwell  had  suggested  precau- 
tions which  would  have  made  a  surprise  impossible.  The  French 
General,  impatient  of  all  interference,  had  omitted  to  take  those 
precautions.  Maxwell  had  been  rudely  told  that,  if  he  was 
afraid,  he  had  better  resign  his  command.  He  had  done  his 
duty  bravely.  He  had  stood  while  his  men  had  fled.  He  had 
consequently  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy ;  and  he  was 
now,  in  his  absence,  slandered  by  those  to  whom  his  captivity 
was  justly  imputable.*  On  which  side  the  truth  lay  it  is  not 
easy,  at  this  distance  of  time,  to  pronounce.  The  cry  against 
Tyrconnel  was,  at  the  moment,  so  loud,  that  he  gave  way  and 
sullenly  retired  to  Limerick.  D'Usson,  who  had  not  yet  re- 
covered from  the  hurts  inflicted  by  his  own  runaway  troops, 
repaired  to  Gal  way. t 

*  The  story,  as  told  by  the  enemies  of  Tyrconnel,  will  be  found  in  Macarise 
Exeidium,  and  in  a  letter  written  by  Felix  O'Neill  to  the  Countess  of  Antrim  on 
the  10th  of  July  1691.  The  letter  was  found  011  the  corpse  of  Feiix  O'Neill  after 
the  battle  of  Aghrim.  It  is  printed  in  the  Rawdon  Papers.  The  other  story  is 
told  in  Berwick's  Memoirs  and  in  the  Light  to  the  Blind. 

t  Macarias  Exeidium  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  456  ;  Light  to  the  Blind. 

"WILLIAM    AND    MART.  189 

Saint  Ruth,  now  left  in  undisputed  possession  of  the  supreme 
command,  was  bent  on  trying  the  chances  of  a  battle.  Most  of  the 
Irish  officers,  with  Sarsfield  at  their  head,  were  of  a  very  different 
mind.  It  was,  they  said,  not  to  be  dissembled  that,  in  discipline, 
the  army  of  Ginkell  was  far  superior  to  theirs.  The  wise  course, 
therefore,  evidently  was  to  carry  on  the  war  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  difference  between  the  disciplined  and  the  undisciplined 
soldier  might  be  as  small  as  possible.  It  was  well  known  that 
raw  recruits  often  played  their  part  well  in  a  foray,  in  a  street 
fight,  or  in  the  defence  of  a  rampart ;  but  that,  on  a  pitched  field? 
they  had  little  chance  against  veterans.  "  Let  most  of  our  foot 
be  collected  behind  the  walls  of  Limerick  and  Galway.  Let  the 
rest,  together  with  our  horse,  get  in  the  rear  of  the  enemy,  and 
cut  off  his  supplies.  If  he  advances  into  Connaught,  let  us 
overrun  Leinster.  If  he  sits  down  before  Galway,  which  may 
well  be  defended,  let  us  make  a  push  for  Dublin,  which  is  alto- 
gether defenceless."  *  Saiut  Ruth  might,  perhaps,  have  thought 
this  advice  good,  if  his  judgment  had  not  been  biassed  by  his  pas- 
sions. But  he  was  smarting  from  the  pain  of  a  humiliating  defeat. 
In  sight  of  his  tent,  the  English  had  passed  a  rapid  river,  and  had 
stormed  a  strong  town.  He  could  not  but  feel  that,  though  others 
might  have  been  to  blame,  he  was  not  himself  blameless.  He 
had,  to  say  the  least,  taken  things  too  easily.  Lewis,  accustomed 
to  be  served  during  many  years  by  commanders  who  were  not  in 
the  habit  of  leaving  to  chance  anything  which  could  be  made 
secure  by  prudence,  would  hardly  think  it  a  sufficient  excuse 
that  his  general  had  not  expected  the  enemy  to  make  so  bold 
and  sudden  an  attack.  The  Lord  Lieutenant  would,  of  course, 
represent  what  had  passed  in  the  most  unfavourable  manner  ;  and 
whatever  the  Lord  Lieutenant  said  James  would  echo.  A  sharp 
reprimand,  a  letter  of  recall,  might  be  expected.  To  return  to 
Versailles  a  culprit ;  to  approach  the  great  King  in  an  agony 
of  distress  :  to  see  him  shrug  his  shoulders,  knit  his  brow,  and 
turn  his  back  ;  to  be  sent,  far  from  courts  and  camps,  to  languish 
at  some  dull  country  seat ;  this  was  too  much  to  be  borne ;  and 
yet  this  might  well  be  apprehended.  There  was  one  escape ;  to 

*  Macariae  Excidium. 


fight,  and  to  conquer  or  to  perish.  In  such  a  temper  Saint  Ruth 
pitched  his  camp  about  thirty  miles  from  Athlone  on  the  road 
to  Galway,  near  the  ruined  castle  of  Aghrim,  and  determined  to 
await  the  approach  of  the  English  army. 

His  whole  deportment  was  changed.  He  had  hitherto  treated 
the  Irish  soldiers  with  contemptuous  severity.  But,  now  that 
he  hud  resolved  to  stake  life  and  fame  on  the  valour  of  the  de- 
spised race,  he  became  another  man.  During  the  few  days  which 
remained  to  him,  he  exerted  himself  to  win  by  indulgence  and 
caresses  the  hearts  of  all  who  were  under  his  command.*  He, 
at  the  same  time,  administered  to  his  troops  moral  stimulants  of 
the  most  potent  kind.  He  was  a  zealous  Roman  Catholic  ;  and 
it  is  probable  that  the  severity  with  which  he  had  treated  the 
Protestants  of  his  own  country  ought  to  be  partly  ascribed  to 
the  hatred  which  he  felt  for  their  doctrines.  He  now  tried  to 
give  to  the  war  the  character  of  a  crusade.  The  clergy  were 
the  agents  whom  he  employed  to  sustain  the  courage  of  his  sol- 
diers. The  whole  camp  was  in  a  ferment  with  religious  excite- 
ment. In  every  regiment  priests  were  praying,  preaching,  shriv- 
ing, holding  up  the  host  and  the  cup.  While  the  soldiers  swore 
on  the  sacramental  bread  not  to  abandon  their  colours,  the  General 
addressed  to  the  officers  an  appeal  which  might  have  moved  the 
most  languid  and  effeminate  nature  to  heroic  exertion.  They 
were  fighting,  he  said,  for  their  religion,  their  liberty,  and  their 
honour.  Unhappy  events,  too  widely  celebrated,  had  brought 
a  reproach  on  the  national  character.  Irish  soldiership  was 
everywhere  mentioned  with  a  sneer.  If  they  wished  to  retrieve 
the  fame  of  their  country,  this  was  the  time  and  this  the  place.* 

The  spot  on  which  he  had  determined  to  bring  the  fate  of 
Ireland  to  issue  seems  to  have  been  chosen  with  great  judg- 
ment. His  army  was  drawn  up  on  the  slope  of  a  hill,  which 
was  almost  surrounded  by  red  bog.  In  front,  near  the  edge  of 
the  morass,  were  some  fences  out  of  which  a  breastwork  was 
without  difficulty  constructed. 

On  the  eleventh  of  July,  Ginkell,  having  repaired  the  forti- 
fications of  Athlone,  and  left  a  garrison  there,  fixed  his  head- 

*  Story's  Coil  tin  uatiou.  t  Burnet,  ii.  79 ;  Story's  Continuation. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  191 

quarters  at  Ballinasloe,  about  four  miles  from  Aghrim,  and 
rode  forward  to  take  a  view  of  the  Irish  position.  On  his  return 
he  gave  orders  that  ammunition  should  be  served  out,  that  every 
musket  and  bayonet  should  be  got  ready  for  action,  and  that 
early  on  the  morrow  every  man  should  be  under  arms  without 
beat  of  drum.  •  Two  regiments  were  to  remain  in  charge  of  the 
camp :  the  rest,  unincumbered  by  baggage,  were  to  march 
against  the  enemy. 

Soon  after  six,  the  next  morning,  the  English  were  on  the 
way  to  Aghrim.  But  some  delay  was  occasioned  by  a  thick 
fog  which  hung  till  noon  over  the  moist  valley  of  the  Suck :  a 
further  delay  was  caused  by  the  necessity  of  dislodging  the 
Irish  from  some  outposts  ;  and  the  afternoon  was  far  advanced 
when  the  two  armies  at  length  confronted  each  other  with  noth- 
ing but  the  bog  and  the  breastwork  between  them.  The  Eng- 
lish and  their  allies  were  under  twenty  thousand ;  the  Irish 
above  twenty-five  thousand. 

Ginkell  held  a  short  consultation  with  his  principal  officers. 
Should  he  attack  instantly,  or  wait  till  the  next  morning?  Mac- 
kay  was  for  attacking  instantly  ;  and  his  opinion  prevailed.  At 
five  the  battle  began.  The  English  foot,  in  such  order  as  they 
could  keep  on  treacherous  and  uneven  ground,  made  their  way, 
sinking  deep  in  mud  at  every  step,  to  the  Irish  works.  But 
those  works  were  defended  with  a  resolution  such  as  extorted 
some  words  of  ungracious  eulogy  even  from  men  who  enter- 
tained the  strongest  prejudices  against  the  Celtic  race.*  Again 
and  again  the  assailants  were  driven  back.  Again  and  again 
they  returned  to  the  struggle.  Once  they  were  broken,  and 
chased  across  the  morass  :  but  Talmash  rallied  them,  and  forced 
the  pursuers  to  retire.  The  fight  had  lasted  two  hours  :  the 
evening  was  closing  in ;  and  still  the  advantage  was  on  the  side 
of  the  Irish.  Ginkell  began  to  meditate  a  retreat.  The  hopes 
of  Saint  Ruth  rose  high.  "  The  day  is  ours,  my  boys,"  he 
cried,  waving  his  hat  in  the  air.  "  We  will  drive  them  before 


*  "They  maintained  their  ground  much  longer  than  they  had  teen  ac- 
customed to  do,"  says  Burnet.  '•  They  behaved  themselves  like  men  of  another 
nation,"  says  Story.  "  The  Irish  were  never  known  to  fight  with  more  resolu- 
tion," Bays  the  London  Gazette. 


us  to  the  walls  of  Dublin."  But  fortune  was  already  on  the 
turn.  Mackay  and  Ruvigny,  with  the  English  and  Huguenot 
cavalry,  had  succeeded  in  passing  the  bog  at  a  place  where  two 
horsemen  could  scarcely  ride  abreast.  Saint  Ruth  at  first 
laughed  when  he  saw  the  Blues,  in  single  file,  struggling  through 
the  morass  under  a  fire  which  every  moment  laid  some  gallant 
hat  and  feather  on  the  earth.  "  What  do  they  mean  ? "  he 
asked ;  and  then  he  swore  that  it  was  pity  to  see  such  fine 
fellows  rushing  to  certain  destruction.  "  Let  them  cross,  how- 
ever ;  "  he  said.  "  The  more  they  are,  the  more  we  shall  kill." 
But  soon  he  saw  them  laying  hurdles  on  the  quagmire.  A 
broader  and  safer  path  was  formed :  squadron  after  squadron 
reached  firm  ground :  the  flank  of  the  Irish  army  was  speedily 
turned.  The  French  general  was  hastening  to  the  rescue  when 
a  cannon  ball  carried  off  his  head.  Those  who  were  about  him 
thought  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  make  his  fate  known. 
His  corpse  was  wrapped  in  a  cloak,  carried  from  the  field,  and 
laid,  with  all  secresy,  in  the  sacred  ground  among  the  ruins  of 
the  ancient  monastery  of  Loughrea.  Till  the  fight  was  over 
neither  army  was  aware  that  he  was  no  more.  The  crisis  of 
the  battle  had  arrived  ;  and  there  was  none  to  give  direction. 
Sarsfield  was  in  command  of  the  reserve.  But  he  had  been 
strictly  enjoined  by  Saint  Ruth  not  to  stir  without  orders  ;  and 
no  orders  came.  Mackay  and  Ruvigny  with  their  horse 
charged  the  Irish  in  flank.  Talmashand  his  foot  returned  to  the 
attack  in  front  with  dogged  determination.  The  breastwork 
was  carried.  The  Irish,  still  fighting,  retreated  from  enclosure 
to  enclosure.  But,  as  enclosure  after  enclosure  was  forced, 
their  efforts  became  fainter  and  fainter.  At  length  they  broke 
and  fled.  Then  followed  a  horrible  carnage.  The  conquerors 
were  in  a  savage  mood.  For  a  report  had  been  spread  among 
them  that,  during  the  early  part  of  the  battle,  some  English 
captives  who  had  been  admitted  to  quarter  had  been  put  to  the 
sword.  Only  four  hundred  prisoners  were  taken.  The  number  7  3 ' 
of  the  slain  was,  in  proportion  to  the  number  engaged,  greater 
than  in  any  other  battle  of  that  age.  But  for  the  coming  on  of 
a  moonless  night,  made  darker  by  a  misty  rain,  scarcely  a  man 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  193 

would  have  escaped.  The  obscurity  enabled  Sarsfield,  with  a 
few  squadrons  which  still  remained  unbroken,  to  cover  the  re- 
treat. Of  the  conquerors  six  hundred  were  killed,  and  about  a 
thousand  wounded. 

The  English  slept  that  night  on  the  ground  which  had  been 
so  desperately  contested.  On  the  following  day  they  buried 
their  companions  in  arms,  and  then  marched  westward.  The 
vanquished  were  left  unburied,  a  strange  and  ghastly  spectacle. 
Four  thousand  Irish  corpses  were  counted  on  the  field  of  battle. 
A  hundred  and  fifty  lay  in  one  small  enclosure,  a  hundred  and 
twenty  in  another.  But  the  slaughter  had  not  been  confined  to 
the  field  of  battle.  One  who  was  there  tells  us  that,  from  the 
top  of  the  hill  on  which  the  Celtic  camp  had  been  pitched,  he 
saw  the  country,  to  the  distance  of  near  four  miles,  white  with 
the  naked  bodies  of  the  slain^  The  plain  looked,  he  said,  like 
an  immense  pasture  covered  by  flocks  of  sheep.  As  usual, 
different  estimates  were  formed  even  by  eyewitnesses.  But  it 
seems  probable  that  the  number  of  the  Irish  who  fell  was  not 
less  than  seven  thousand.  Soon  a  multitude  of  dogs  came  to 
feast  on  the  carnage.  These  beasts  became  so  fierce,  and  ac- 
quired such  a  taste  for  human  flesh,  that  it  was  long  dangerous 
for  men  to  travel  that  road  otherwise  than  in  companies.* 

The  beaten  army  had  now  lost  all  the  appearance  of  an  army, 
and  resembled  a  rabble  crowding  home  from  a  fair  after  a  fac- 
tion fight.  One  great  stream  of  fugitives  ran  towards  Galway, 
another  towards  Limerick.  The  roads  to  both  cities  were  covered 
with  weapons  which  had  been  flung  away.  Ginkell  offered  six- 
pence for  every  musket.  In  a  short  time  so  many  waggon  loads 
were  collected  that  he  reduced  the  price  to  twopence  ;  and  still 
great  numbers  of  muskets  came  in.f 

*  Story's  Continuation  ;  London  Gazette,  July  20,  23,  1691 ;  Meinoires  de 
Berwick  ;  Life  of  James,  il.  456 ;  Burnet,  ii.  79 ;  Macariae  Excidium  ;  Light  to 
the  Blind  ;  Letter  from  the  English  camp  to  Sir  Arthur  Rawdon,  in  the  Rawdon 
Papers  ;  History  of  William  the  Third,  1702. 

The  narratives  to  which  I  have  referred  differ  very  widely  from  each  other. 
Nor  can  the  differences  be  ascribed  solely  or  chiefly  to  partiality.  For  no  two 
narratives  differ  more  widely  than  that  which  will  be  found  in  the  Lif  e  of  James, 
and  that  which  will  be  found  in  the  memoirs  of  his  son. 

In  consequence,  I  suppose,  of  the  death  of  Saint  Ruth,  and  of  the  absence  of 
D'Usson,  there  Is  at  the  French  War  Office  no  despatch  containing  a  detailed 
account  of  the  battle.  t  Story's  Continuation. 

VOL.  IV.— 13 



The  conquerors  marched  first  against  Galway.  D'Usson  was 
there,  and  had  under  him  seven  regiments  thinned  by  the  slaughter 
of  Aghrim  and  utterly  disorganised  and  disheartened.  The 
last  hope  of  the  garrison  and  of  the  Roman  Catholic  inhabitants 
was  that  Baldearg  O'Donnel,  the  promised  deliverer  of  their 
race,  would  come  to  the  rescue.  But  Baldearg  O'Donuel  was 
not  duped  by  the  superstitious  veneration  of  which  he  was  the 
object.  While  there  had  been  any  doubt  about  the  issue  of  the 
conflict  between  the  Englishry  and  the  Irishry,  he  had  stood 
aloof.  On  the  day  of  the  battle  he  had  remained  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance with  his  tumultuary  army  ;  and,  as  soon  as  he  had  learned 
that  his  countrymen  had  been  put  to  rout,  he  had  fled,  plunder- 
ing and  burning  all  the  way,  to  the  mountains  of  Mayo.  Thence 
he  sent  to  Ginkell  offers  of  submission  and  service.  Ginkell 
gladly  seized  the  opportunity  of  breaking  up  a  formidable  band 
of  marauders,  and  of  turning  to  good  account  the  influence 
which  the  name  of  a  Celtic  dynasty  still  exercised  over  the  Cel- 
tic race.  The  negotiation,  however,  was  not  without  difficulties. 
The  wandering  adventurer  at  first  demanded  nothing  less  than 
an  earldom.  After  some  haggling  he  consented  to  sell  the  love 
of  a  whole  people,  and  his  pretensions  to  regal  dignity,  for  a 
pension  of  five  hundred  pounds  a  year.  Yet  the  spell  which 
bound  his  followers  to  him  was  not  altogether  broken.  Some 
enthusiasts  from  Ulster  were  willing  to  fight  under  the  O'Donnel 
against  their  own  language  and  their  own  religion.  With  a 
small  body  of  these  devoted  adherents,  he  joined  a  division  of 
the  English  army,  and  on  several  occasions  did  useful  service  to 

When  it  was  known  that  no  succour  was  to  be  expected  from 
the  hero  whose  advent  had  been  foretold  by  so  many  seers,  the 
Irish  who  were  shut  up  in  Galway  lost  all  heart.  D'Usson  had 
returned  a  stout  answer  to  the  first  summons  of  the  besiegers : 
but  he  soon  saw  that  resistance  was  impossible,  and  made  haste 
to  capitulate.  The  garrison  was  suffered  to  retire  to  Limerick 
with  the  honours  of  war.  A  full  amnesty  for  past  offences  was 

*  Story's  Continuation  ;  Macarise  Bxcidium  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  464;  London 
Gazette,  July  00,  Aug.  IT,  1691 ;  Light  to  tue  Blind. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  195 

granted  to  the  citizens  ;  and  it  was  stipulated  that,  within  the 
walls,  the  Roman  Catholic  priests  should  be  allowed  to  perform 
in  private  the  rites  of  their  religion.  On  these  terms  the  gates 
were  thrown  open.  '  Ginkell  was  received  with  profound  respect 
by  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen,  and  was  complimented  in  a  set 
speech  by  the  Recorder.  D'Usson,  with  about  two  thousand 
three  hundred  men,  marched  unmolested  to  Limerick.* 

At  Limerick,  the  last  asylum  of  the  vanquished  race,  the 
authority  of  Tyrconnel  was  supreme.  There  was  now  no  gen- 
eral who  could  pretend  that  his  commission  made  him  indepen- 
dent of  the  Lord  Lieutenant ;  nor  was  the  Lord  Lieutenant 
now  so  unpopular  as  he  had  been  for  a  fortnight  earlier.  Since 
the  battle  there  had  been  a  reflux  of  public  feeling.  No  part  of 
that  great  disaster  could  be  imputed  to  the  Viceroy.  His  opin- 
ion indeed  had  been  against  trying  the  chances  of  a  pitched  field, 
and  he  could  with  some  plausibility  assert  that  the  neglect  of  his 
counsels  had  caused  the  ruin  of  Ireland.t 

He,  made  some  preparations  for  defending  Limerick,  repaired 
the  fortifications,  and  sent  out  parties  to  bring  in  provisions. 
The  country,  many  miles  round,  was  swept  bare  by  these  detach- 
ments, and  a  considerable  quantity  of  cattle  and  fodder  was  col- 
lected within  the  walls.  There  was  also  a  large  stock  of  biscuit 
imported  from  France.  The  infantry  assembled  at  Limerick 
were  about  fifteen  thousand  men.  The  Irish  horse  and  dragoons, 
three  or  four  thousand  in  number,  were  encamped  on  the  Clare 
side  of  the  Shannon.  The  communication  between  their  camp 
and  the  city  was  maintained  by  means  of  a  bridge  called  the 
Thomoud  Bridge,  which  was  protected  by  a  fort.  These  means 
of  defence  were  not  contemptible.  But  the  fall  of  Athloue  and 
the  slaughter  of  Aghrim  had  broken  the  spirit  of  the  army.  A 
small  party  at  the  head  or  which  were  Sarsfield  and  a  brave 
Scotch  officer  named  TVauchop,  cherished  a  hope  that  the 
triumphant  progress  of  Giukell  might  be  stopped  by  those  walls 

*  Story's  Continuation  ;  Macarise  Excidium  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  459  ;  London 
Gazette.  July  30,  Aug.  3, 1G91. 

t  He  held  this  language  in  a  letter  to  Lewis  XTV.,  dated  the  5-15th  of  August. 
This  letter,  written  in  a  hand  which  it  is  not  easy  to  decipher,  is  in  the  French 
Va/  O3ice.  Macariae  Excidiuni ;  Light  to  the  Blind. 


from  which  William  had,  in  the  preceding  year,  been  forced  to 
retreat.  But  many  of  the  Irish  chiefs  loudly  declared  that  it  was 
time  to  think  of  capitulating.  Henry  Luttrell,  always  fond  of 
dark  and  crooked  politics,  opened  a  secret  negotiation  with  the 
English.  One  of  his  letters  was  intercepted ;  and  he  was  put 
under  arrest :  but  many  who  blamed  his  perfidy  agreed  with  him 
in  thinking  that  it  was  idle  to  prolong  the  contest.  Tyrconnel 
himself  was  convinced  that  all  was  lost.  His  only  hope  was  that 
he  might  be  able  to  prolong  the  struggle  till  he  could  receive 
from  Saint  Germains  permission  to  treat.  He  wrote  to  re- 
quest that  permission,  and  prevailed,  with  some  difficulty,  on  his 
desponding  countrymen  to  bind  themselves  by  an  oath  not  to 
capitulate  till  an  answer  from  James  should  arrive.* 

A  few  days  after  the  oath  had  been  administered  Tyrconnel 
was  no  more.  On  the  eleventh  of  August  he  dined  with  D'Usson. 
The  party  was  gay.  The  Lord  Lieutenant  seemed  to  have 
thrown  off  the  load  which  had  bowed  down  his  body  and  mind : 
he  drank:  he  jested:  he  was  again  the  Dick  Talbot  who  had 
diced  and  revelled  with  Grammont.  Soon  after  he  had  risen 
from  table,  an  apoplectic  stroke  deprived  him  of  speech  and 
sensation.  On  the  fourteenth  he  breathed  his  last.  The  wasted 
remains  of  that  form  which  had  once  been  a  model  for  statuaries 
were  laid  under  the  pavement  of  the  Cathedral :  but  no  inscrip- 
tion, no  tradition,  preserves  the  memory  of  the  spot.f 

As  soon  as  the  Lord  Lieutenant  had  expired,  Plowden,  who 
had  superintended  the  Irish  finances  while  there  were  any  Irish 
finances  to  superintend,  produced  a  commission  under  the  great 
seal  of  James.  This  commission  appointed  Plowden  himself, 
Fitton,  and  Nagle,  Lords  Justices  in  the  event  of  Tyrconnel's 
death.  There  was  much  murmuring  when  the  names  were  made 
known.  For  both  Plowden  and  Fitton  were  Saxons.  The 
commission,  however,  proved  to  be  a  mere  nullity.  For  it  was 
accompanied  by  instructions  which  forbade  the  Lords  Justices 
to  interfere  in  the  conduct  of  the  war;  and,  within  the  narrow 

*  Macariae  Excidium  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  461,  462. 

t  Macarioe  Excidium ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  459,  462;  London  Gazette,  Aug.  31, 
1691  ;  Light  to  the  Blind ;  D'Usson  and  Tesse  to  Barbesieux,  Aug.  13-23. 


WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  197 

space  to  which  the  dominions  of  James  were  now  reduced,  war 
was  the  only  business.  The  government  was,  therefore,  really 
iu  the  hands  of  D'Usson  and  Sarsfield.* 

On  the  day  on  which  Tyrconnel  died,  the  advanced  guard 
of  the  English  army  came  within  sight  of  Limerick.  Ginkell 
encamped  on  the  same  ground  which  -William  had  occupied 
twelve  months  before.  The  batteries,  on  which  were  planted 
guns  and  bombs,  very  different  from  those  which  William  had 
been  forced  to  use,  played  day  and  night ;  and  soon  roofs  were 
blazing  and  walls  crashing  in  every  part  of  the  city.  Whole 
streets  were  reduced  to  ashes.  Meanwhile  several  English  ships 
of  war  came  up  the  Shannon  and  anchored  about  a  mile  below 
the  city.f 

Still  the  place  held  out :  the  garrison  was,  in  numerical 
strength,  little  inferior  to  the  besieging  army  ;  and  it  seemed  not 
impossible  that  the  defence  might  be  prolonged  till  the  equinoctial 
rains  should  a  second  time  compel  the  English  to  retire.  Ginkell 
determined  on  striking  a  bold  stroke.  No  point  in  the  whole 
circle  of  the  fortifications  was  more  important,  and  no  point 
seemed  to  be  more  secure,  than  the  Thomond  Bridge,  which 
joined  the  city  to  the  camp  of  Irish  horse  on  the  Clare  bank  of 
the  Shannon.  The  Dutch  General's  plan  was  to  separate  the 
infantry  within  the  ramparts  from  the  cavalry  without ;  and  this 
plan  he  executed  with  great  skill,  vigour,  and  success.  He  laid 
a  bridge  of  tin  boats  on  the  river,  crossed  it  with  a  strong  body 
of  troops,  drove  before  him  in  confusion  fifteen  hundred  dragoons 
who  made  a  faint  show  of  resistance,  and  marched  towards  the 
quarters«of  the  Irish  horse.  The  Irish  horse  sustained  but  ill 
on  this  day  the  reputation  which  they  had  gained  at  the  Boyne.  In- 
deed, that  reputation  had  been  purchased  by  the  almost  entire 
destruction  of  the  best  regiments.  Recruits  had  been  without 
much  difficulty  found.  But  the  loss  of  fifteen  hundred  excellent 
soldiers  was  not  to  be  repaired.  The  camp  was  abandoned  with- 
out a  blow.  Some  of  the  cavalry  fled  into  the  city.  The  rest, 

*  Story's  Continuation  ;  D'Usson  and  Tess6  to  Barbesietix,  Aug.  15-25,  1691. 
An  unpublished  letter  from  Nagle  to  Lord  Merion  of  Aug.  15.  This  letter  ia 
quoted  by  Mr.  O'Callaghan  in  a  note  on  the  Macarise  Excidium. 

t  Macarise  Excidium  ;  Story's  Continuation. 


driving  before  them  as  many  cattle  as  could  be  collected  in  that 
moment  of  panic,  retired  to  the  hills.  Much  beef,  brandy,  and 
harness  was  found  in  the  magazines ;  and  the  marshy  plain  of 
the  Shannon  was  covered  with  firelocks  and  grenades  which  the 
fugitives  had  thrown  away.* 

The  conquerors  returned  in  triumph  to  their  camp.  But 
Ginkell  was  not  content  with  the  advantage  which  he  had  gained. 
He  was  bent  on  cutting  off  all  communication  between  Limerick 
and  the  county  of  Clare.  In  a  few  days,  therefore,  he  again 
crossed  the  river  at  the  head  of  several  regiments,  and  attacked 
the  fort  which  protected  the  Thomond  Bridge.  In  a  short  time 
the  fort  was  stormed.  The  soldiers  who  had  garrisoned  it  fled 
in  confusion  to  the  city.  The  Town  Major,  a  French  officer, 
who  commanded  at  the  Thomond  Gate,  afraid  that  the  pur- 
suers would  enter  with  the  fugitives,  ordered  that  part  of  the 
bridge  which  was  nearest  to  the  city  to  be  drawn  up.  Many  of 
the  Irish  went  headlong  into  the  stream  and  perished  there. 
Others  cried  for  quarter,  and  held  up  handkerchiefs  in  token  of 
submission.  But  the  conquerors  were  mad  with  rage :  their 
cruelty  could  not  be  immediately  restrained  :  and  no  prisoners 
were  made  till  the  heaps  of  corpses  rose  above  the  parapets. 
The  garrison  of  the  fort  had  consisted  of  about  eight  hundred 
men.  Of  these  only  a  hundred  and  twenty  escaped  into  Lim- 
erick, f 

This  disaster  seemed  likely  to  produce  a  general  mutiny  in 

*  Story's  Continuation  ;  London  Gazette,  Sept.  28,  1691 ;  Life  of  James,  ii. 
463  ;  Diary  of  the  Siege  of  Lymerick,  1692  ;  Light  to  the  Blind.  In  the  account 
of  the  siege  which  is  among  the  archives  of  the  French  War  Office,  it  ft  said  that 
the  Irish  cavalry  behaved  worse  than  the  infantry. 

t  Story's  Continuation  ;  Macariae  Excidium ;  R.  Douglas  to  Sir  A.  Rawdon, 
Sept.  28,  1691,  in  the  Rawdon  Papers  ;  London  Gazette,  Oct.  8  ;  Diary  of  the 
Siege  of  Lymerick  ;  Light  to  the  Blind  ;  Account  of  the  Siege  of  Limerick  in  the 
archives  of  the  French  War  Office. 

The  account  of  this  affair  in  the  Life  of  James,  ii.  464,  deserves  to  be  noticed 
merely  for  its  preeminent  absurdity.  The  writer  tells  us  that  seven  hundred  of 
the  Irish  held  out  some  lime  against  a  much  larger  force,  and  warmly  praises 
their  heroism.  He  did  not  know,  or  did  not  choose  to  mention,  one  fact  which  is 
essential  to  the  right  understanding  of  the  story  ;  namely,  that  these  seven  hun- 
dred men  were  in  a  fort.  That  a  garrison  should  defend  a  fort  during  a  few 
hours  against  superior  numbers  is  surely  not  strange.  Fort-s  are  built  because 
they  can  be  defended  by  few  against  many. 


the  besieged  city.  The  Irish  clamoured  for  the  blood  of  the 
Town  Major  who  had  ordered  the  bridge  to  be  drawn  up  in  the 
face  of  their  flying  countrymen.  His  superiors  were  forced  to 
promise  that  he  should  be  brought  before  a  court  martial.  Hap- 
pily for  him,  he  had  received  a  mortal  wound,  in  the  act  of 
closing  the  Thomond  Gate,  and  was  saved  by  a  soldier's  death 
from  the  fury  of  the  multitude.* 

The  cry  for  capitulation  became  so  loud  and  importunate 
that  the  generals  could  not  resist  it.  D'Usson  informed  his  gov- 
ernment that  the  fight  at  the  bridge  had  so  effectually  cowed  the 
spirit  of  the  garrison  that  it  was  impossible  to  continue  the 
struggle,  f  Some  exception  may  perhaps  be  taken  to  the  evi- 
dence of  D'Usson :  for  undoubtedly  he,  like  every  other  French- 
man who  had  held  any  command  in  the  Irish  army,  was  weary 
of  his  banishment,  and  impatient  to  see  his  country  again.  But 
it  is  certain  that  even  Sarsfield  had  lost  heart.  Up  to  this 
time  his  voice  had  been  for  stubborn  resistance.  He  was  now 
not  only  willing,  but  impatient  to  treat.  J  It  seemed  to  him  that 
the  city  was  doomed.  There  was  no  hope  of  succour,  domestic 
or  foreign.  In  every  part  of  Ireland  the  Saxons  had  set  their 
feet  on  the  necks  of  the  natives.  Sligo  had  fallen.  Even  those 
wild  islands  which  intercept  the  huge  waves  of  the  Atlantic  from 
the  bay  of  Galway  had  acknowledged  the  authority  of  William. 
The  men  of  Kerry,  reputed  the  fiercest  and  most  ungovernable 
part  of  the  aboriginal  population,  had  held  out  long,  but  had  at 
length  been  routed,  and  chased  to  their  woods  and  mountains. § 
A  French  fleet,  if  a  French  fleet  were  now  to  arrive  on  the 
coast  of  Munster,  would  find  the  mouth  of  the  Shannon  guarded 
by  English  men  of  war.  The  stock  of  provisions  within  Lim- 
erick was  already  running  low.  If  the  siege  were  prolonged, 
the  town  would,  in  all  human  probability,  be  reduced  either  by 
force  or  by  blockade.  And,  if  Ginkell  should  enter  through  the 
breach,  or  should  be  implored  by  a  multitude  perishing  with  hun- 

*  Account  of  the  Siege  of  Limerick  in  the  archives  of  the  French  "War  office ; 
Story's  Continuation. 

t  D'Usson  to  Barbesieux,  Oct.  4-14,  1691. 

J  Macarine  Exeidinm. 

§  Story's  Continuation  ;  Diary  of  the  Siege  of  Lymerick. 


ger  to  dictate  his  own  terms,  what  could  be  expected  but  a  tyr- 
anny more  inexorably  severe  than  that  of  Cromwell  ?  Would 
it  not  then  be  wise  to  try  what  conditions  could  be  obtained  while 
the  victors  had  still  something  to  fear  from  the  rage  and  despair 
of  the  vanquished ;  while  the  last  Irish  army  could  still  make 
some  show  of  resistance  behind  the  walls  of  the  last  Irish  for- 
tress ? 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  which  followed  the  fight  at  the 
Thomond  Gate,  the  drums  of  Limerick  beat  a  parley ;  and 
Wauchop,  from  one  of  the  towers,  hailed  the  besiegers,  and 
requested  Ruvigny  to  grant  Sarsfield  an  interview."  The  brave 
Frenchman  who  was  an  exile  on  account  of  his  attachment  to 
one  religion,  and  the  brave  Irishman  who  was  about  to  become 
an  exile  on  account  of  his  attachment  to  another,  met  and  con- 
ferred, doubtless  with  mutual  sympathy  and  respect.*  Ginkell, 
to  whom  Ruvigny  reported  what  had  passed,  willingly  consented 
to  an  armistice.  For,  constant  as  his  success  had  been,  it  had- 
not  made  him  secure.  The  chances  were  greatly  on  his  side. 
Yet  it  was  possible  that  an  attempt  to  storm  the  city  might  fail, 
as  a  similar  attempt  had  failed  twelve  months  before.  If  the 
siege  should  be  turned  into  a  blockade,  it  was  probable  that  the 
pestilence  which  had  been  fatal  to  the  army  of  Schomberg, 
which  had  compelled  William  to  retreat,  and  which  had  all 
but  prevailed  even  against  the  genius  and  energy  of  Marlbor- 
ough,  might  soon  avenge  the  carnage  of  Aghrim.  The  rains 
had  lately  been  heavy.  The  whole  plain  might  shortly  be  an 
immense  pool  of  stagnant  water.  It  might  be  necessary  to 
move  the  troops  to  a  healthier  situation  than  the  bank  of  the 
Shannon,  and  to  provide  for  them  a  warmer  shelter  than  that 
of  tents.  The  enemy  would  be  safe  till  the  spring.  In  the  spring 
a  French  army  might  land  in  Ireland  :  the  natives  might  again 
rise  in  arms  from  Donegal  to  Kerry ;  and  the  war,  which  was 
now  all  but  extinguished,  might  blaze  forth  fiercer  than  ever. 

A   negotiation  was  therefore  opened  with  a  sincere  desire 
on  both  sides  to  put  an  end  to  the  contest.     The  chiefs  of   the 

*  London  Gazette,  Oct.  8,  1691 ;  Story's  Continuation  ;  Diary  of  the  Siege  of 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  201 

Irish  array  held  several  consultations  at  which  some  Roman 
Catholic  prelates  and  some  eminent  lawyers  were  invited  to 
assist.  A  preliminary  question,  which  perplexed  tender  con- 
sciences, was  submitted  to  the  Bishops.  The  late  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant had  persuaded  the  officers  of  the  garrison  to  swear  that  they 
would  not  surrender  Limerick  till  they  should  receive  an  answer 
to  the  letter  in  which  their  situation  had  heen  explained  to 
James.  The  Bishops  thought  that  the  oath  was  no  longer  bind- 
ino-.  It  had  been  taken  at  a  time  when  the  communications 


with  France  were  open,  and  in  the  full  belief  that  the  answer 
of  James  would  arrive  within  three  weeks.  More  than  twice 
that  time  had  elapsed.  Every  avenue  leading  to  the  city  was 
strictly  guarded  by  the  enemy.  His  Majesty's  faithful  subjects, 
by  holding  out  till  it  had  become  impossible  for  him  to  sig- 
nify his  pleasure  to  them,  had  acted  up  to  the  spirit  of  their 

The  next  question  was  what  terms  should  be  demanded.  A 
paper,  containing  propositions  which  statesmen  of  our  age  will 
think  reasonable,  but  which  to  the  most  humane  and  liberal 
English  Protestants  of  the  seventeenth  century  appeared  ex- 
travagant, was  sent  to  the  camp  of  the  besiegers.  What  was 
asked  was  that  all  offences  should  be  covered  with  oblivion, 
that  perfect  freedom  of  worship  should  be  allowed  to  the  native 
population,  that  every  parish  should  have  its  Roman  Catholic 
priest,  and  that  Irish  Roman  Catholics  should  be  capable  of 
holding  all  offices,  civil  and  military,  and  of  enjoying  all  muni- 
cipal privi  leges,  f 

Ginkell  knew  little  of  the  laws  and  feelings  of  the  English : 
but  he  had  about  him  persons  who  were  competent  to  direct 
him.  They  had  a  week  before  prevented  him  from  breaking  a 
Rapparee  on  the  wheel :  and  they  now  suggested  an  answer  to 
the  propositions  of  the  enemy.  "  I  am  a  stranger  here,"  said 
Ginkell  :  "  I  arn  ignorant  of  the  constitution  of  these  king- 
doms  :  but  I  am  assured  that  what  you  ask  is  inconsistent  with 
that  constitution  ;  and  therefore  I  cannot  with  honour  consent." 
He  immediately  ordered  a  new  battery  to  be  thrown  up, 

*  Life  of  James,  464,  4G5.  t  Story's  Continuation 


and  guns  and  mortars  to  be  planted  on  it.  But  his  prep- 
arations were  speedily  interrupted  by  aiiotber  message  from 
tbe  city.  The  Irish  begged  that,  since  he  could  not  grant 
what  they  had  demanded,  he  would  tell  them  on  what  terms 
he  was  willing  to  treat.  He  called  his  advisers  round 
him,  and,  after  some  consultation,  sent  back  a  paper  contain- 
ing the  heads  of  a  treaty,  such  as  he  had  reason  to  believe 
tliat  the  government  which  he  served  would  approve.  What  he 
offered  was  indeed  much  less  than  what  the  Irish  desired,  but 
was  quite  as  much  as,  when  they  considered  their  situation  and 
the  temper  of  the  English  nation,  they  could  expect.  They 
speedily  notified  their  assent.  It  was  agreed  that  there  should 
be  a  cessation  of  arms,  not  only  by  land,  but  in  the  ports  and 
bays  of  Munster.and  that  a  fleet  of  French  transports  should  be 
suffered  to  come  up  the  Shannon  in  peace  and  to  depart  in  peace. 
The  signing  of  the  treaty  was  deferred  till  the  Lords  Justices, 
who  represented  William  at  Dublin,  should  arrive  at  Ginkell's 
quarters.  But  there  was  during  some  days  a  relaxation  of  mili- 
tary vigilance  on  both  sides.  Prisoners  were  set  at  liberty.  The 
outposts  of  the  two  armies  chatted  and  messed  together.  The 
English  officers  rambled  into  the  town.  The  Irish  officers  dined 
in  the  camp.  Anecdotes  of  what  passed  at  the  friendly  meetings 
of  these  men,  who  had  so  lately  been  mortal  enemies,  were  wide- 
ly circulated.  One  story,  in  particular,  was  repeated  in  every 
part  of  Europe.  "  Has  not  this  last  campaign,"  said  Sarsfield 
to  some  English  officers,  "  raised  your  opinion  of  Irish  soldiers  ?  " 
"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  answered  an  Englishman,  "  we  think 
of  them  much  as  we  always  did."  "  However  meanly  you  may 
think  of  us,"  replied  Sarsfield,  "  change  Kings  with  us,  and  we 
will  willingly  try  our  luck  with  you  again."  He  was  doubtless 
thinking  of  the  day  on  which  he  had  seen  the  two  Sovereigns 
at  the  head  of  two  great  armies,  William  foremost  in  the  charge, 
and  James  foremost  in  the  flight.* 

On  the  first  of  October,  Coningsby  and  Porter  arrived  at  the 
English  headquarters.     On  the   second  the  articles  of  capitula- 

*  Story's  Continuation  ;  Diary  of  the  Siege  of  Lymerick  ;  Burnet,  ii.  81 ;  Lon- 
don Gazette,  Oct.  12, 1691. 

TflLLIAM   AXD    MART.  203 

tion  were  discussed  at  great  length  and  definitely  settled.  On 
the  third  they  were  signed.  They  were  divided  into  two  parts, 
a  military  treaty  and  a  civil  treaty.  The  former  was  subscribed 
only  by  the  generals  on  both  sides.  The  Lords  Justices  set 
their  names  to  the  latter.* 

By  the  military  treaty  it  was  agreed  that  such  Irish  officers 
and  soldiers  as  should  declare  that  they  wished  to  go  to  France 
should  be  conveyed  thither,  and  should,  in  the  meantime,  remain 
under  the  command  of  their  own  generals.  Ginkell  undertook 
to  furnish  a  considerable  number  of  transports.  French  vessels 
were  also  to  be  permitted  to  pass  and  repass  freely  between 
Britanny  and  Munster.  Part  of  Limerick  was  to  be  immedi- 
ately delivered  up  to  the  English.  But  the  island  on  which  the 
Cathedral  and  the  Castle  stand  was  to  remain,  for  the  present, 
in  the  keeping  of  the  Irish. 

The  terms  of  the  civil  treaty  were  very  different  from  those 
which  Ginkell  had  sternly  refused  to  grant.  It  was  not  stipulated 
that  the  Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland  should  be  competent  to 
hold  any  political  or  military  office,  or  that  they  should  be  admit- 
ted into  any  corporation.  But  they  obtained  a  promise  that 
they  should  enjoy  such  privileges  in  the  exercise  of  their  religion 
as  were  consistent  with  the  law,  or  as  they  had  enjoyed  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  the  Second. 

To  all  inhabitants  of  Limerick,  and  to  all  officers  and  soldiers 
in  the  Jacobite  army,  who  should  submit  to  the  government  and 
notify  their  submission  by  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance,  an  entire 
amnesty  was  promised.  They  were  to  retain  their  property : 
they  were  to  be  allowed  to  exercise  any  profession  which  they 
had  exercised  before  the  troubles  :  they  were  not  to  be  punished 
for  any  treason,  felony,  or  misdemeanour  committed  since  the 
accession  of  the  late  King :  nay,  they  were  not  to  be  sued  for 
damages  on  account  of  any  act  of  spoliation  or  outrage  which 
they  might  have  committed  during  the  three  years  of  confusion. 
This  was  more  than  the  Lords  Justices  were  constitutionally 
competent  to  grant.  It  was  therefore  added  that  the  government 

*  Story's  Continuation ;  Diary  of  tlie  Siege  of  Lymerick ;  London  Gazette, 
Oct.  15,  1691. 


would  use  its  utmost  endeavours  to  obtain  a  Parliamentary 
ratification  of  the  treaty.* 

As  soon  as  the  two  instruments  had  been  signed,  the  English 
entered  the  city,  and  occupied  one  quarter  of  it.  A  narrow  but 
deep  branch  of  the  Shannon  separated  them  from  the  quarter 
which  was  still  in  the  possession  of  the  Irish. f 

In  a  few  hours  a  dispute  arose  which  seemed  likely  to  pro- 
duce a  renewal  of  hostilities.  Sarsfield  had  resolved  to  seek  his 
fortune  in  the  service  of  France,  and  was  naturally  desirous  to 
carry  with  him  to  the  Continent  such  a  body  of  troops  as  would 
be  an  important  addition  to  the  army  of  Lewis.  Ginkell  was  as 
naturally  unwilling  to  send  thousands  of  men  to  swell  the  forces 
of  the  enemy.  Both  generals  appealed  to  the  treaty.  Each 
construed  it  as  suited  his  purpose,  and  each  complained  that  the 
other  had  violated  it.  Sarsfield  was  accused  of  putting  one  of 
his  officers  under  arrest  for  refusing  to  go  to  the  Continent.  Gin- 
kell, greatly  excited,  declared  that  he  would  teach  the  Irish  to 
play  tricks  with  him,  and  began  to  make  preparations  for  a  cannon- 
ade. Sarsfield  came  to  the  English  camp,  and  tried  to  justify  what 
he  had  done.  The  altercation  was  sharp.  "  I  submit,"  said  Sars- 
field, at  last :  "  I  am  in  your  power."  "  Not  at  all  in  my  power," 
said  Ginkell :  "  go  back  and  do  your  worst."  The  imprisoned 
officer  was  liberated  :  a  sanguinary  contest  was  averted  ;  and  the 
two  commanders  contented  themselves  with  a  war  of  words.  $  Gin- 
kell put  forth  proclamations  assuring  the  Irish  that,  if  they 
would  live  quietly  in  their  own  land,  they  should  be  protected 
and  favoured,  and  that,  if  they  preferred  a  military  life,  they 
should  be  admitted  into  the  service  of  King  William.  It  was 
added  that  no  man,  who  chose  to  reject  this  gracious  invitation 
and  to  become  a  soldier  of  Lewis,  must  expect  ever  again  to 
set  foot  on  the  island.  Sarsfield  and  Wauchop  exerted  their 
eloquence  on  the  other  side.  The  present  aspect  of  affairs,  they 
said,  was  doubtless  gloomy  :  but  there  was  bright  sky  beyond 
the  cloud.  The  banishment  would  be  short.  The  return  would 
V  triumphant.  Within  a  year  the  French  would  invade  Eng- 

*  The  articles  of  the  civil  treaty  have  often  been  reprinted. 

f  Story's  Continuation  ;  Diary  of  the  Siege  of  Lymerick.  t  Ibid. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  205 

land.  In  such  an  invasion  the  Irish  troops,  if  only  they  re- 
mained unbroken,  would  assuredly  bear  a  chief  part.  In  the 
meantime  it  was  far  better  for  them  to  live  in  a  neighbouring 
and  friendly  country,  under  the  parental  care  of  their  own  right- 
ful King,  than  to  trust  the  Prince  of  Orarige,  who  would  prob- 
ably send  them  to  the  other  end  of  the  world  to  light  for  his  ally 
the  Emperor  against  the  Janissaries. 

The  help  of  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  was  called  in.  On 
the  day  on  which  those  who  had  made  up  their  minds  to  go 
to  France  were  required  to  announce  their  determination,  the 
priests  were  indefatigable  in  exhorting.  At  the  head  of  every 
regiment  a  sermon  was  preached  on  the  duty  of  adhering  to 
the  cause  of  the  Church,  and  on  the  sin  and  danger  of  consort- 
ing with  unbelievers.*  Whoever,  it  was  said,  should  enter  the 
service  of  the  usurpers  would  do  so  at  the  peril  of  his  soul. 
The  heretics  affirmed  that,  after  the  peroration,  a  plentiful  allow- 
ance of  brandy  was  served  out  to  the  audience,  and  that,  when 
the  brandy  had  been  swallowed,  a  Bishop  pronounced  a  bene- 
diction. Thus  duly  prepared  by  physical  and  moral  stimulants, 
the  garrison,  consisting  of  about  fourteen  thousand  infantry, 
was  drawn  up  in  the  vast  meadow  which  lay  on  the  Clare  bank 
of  the  Shannon.  Here  copies  of  Ginkell's  proclamation  were 
profusely  scattered  about ;  and  English  officers  went  through 
the  ranks  imploring  the  men  not  to  ruin  themselves,  and  explain- 
ing to  them  the  advantages  which  the  soldiers  o£  King  William 
enjoyed.  At  length  the  decisive  moment  came.  The  troops 
were  ordered  to  pass  in  review.  Those  who  wished  to  remain 
in  Ireland  were  directed  to  file  off  at  a  particular  spot.  All 
who  passed  that  spot  were  to  be  considered  as  having  made  their 
choice  for  France.  Sarsfield  and  Wauchop  on  one  side,  Por- 
ter, Coningsby,  and  Ginkell  on  the  other,  looked  on  with  pain- 
ful anxiety.  D'Usson  and  his  countrymen,  though  not  uninter- 
ested in  the  spectacle,  found  it  hard  to  preserve  their  gravity. 

The  coiif  uiioii,  the  clamour,  the  grotesque  appearance   of  an 

*  Story's  Continuation.  His  narrative  is  confirmed  by  the  testimony  which 
an  Irish  Captain  who  was  present  has  left  us  in  bad  Latin.  "  liic  apud  sacrum 
omiies  advertizantur  a  capellauis  ire  potias  in  Galliam." 


army  in  which  there  could  scarcely  be  seen  a  shirt  or  a  pair  of 
pantaloons,  a  shoe  or  a  stocking,  presented  so  ludicrous  a  con- 
trast to  the  orderly  and  brilliant  appearance  of  their  master's 
troops,  that  they  amused  themselves  by  wondering  what  the 
Parisians  would  say  to  see  such  a  force  mustered  on  the  plain 
of  Grenelle.* 

First  marched  what  was  called  the  Royal  regiment,  four- 
teen hundred  strong.  All  but  seven  went  beyond  the  fatal 
point.  Ginkell's  countenance  showed  that  he  was  deeply  mor- 
tified. He  was  consoled,  however,  by  seeing  the  next  regiment, 
which  consisted  of  natives  of  Ulster,  turn  off  to  a  man.  There 
had  arisen,  notwithstanding  the  community  of  blood,  language, 
and  religion,  an  antipathy  between  the  Celts  of  Ulster  and  those 
of  the  other  three  provinces  ;  nor  is  it  improbable  that  the  ex- 
ample and  influence  of  Baldearg  O'Donnel  may  have  had  some 
effect  on  the  people  of  the  land  which  his  forefathers  had  ruled. f 
In  most  of  the  regiments  there  was  a  division  of  opinion  ;  but  a 
great  majority  declared  for  France.  Henry  Luttrell  was  one  of 
those  who  turned  off.  He  was  rewarded  for  his  desertion,  and 
perhaps  for  other  services,  with  a  grant  of  the  large  estate  of 
his  elder  brother  Simon,  who  firmly  adhered  to  the  cause  of 
James,  with  a  pension  of  five  hundred  pounds  a  year  from  the 
Crown,  and  with  the  abhorrence  of  the  Roman  Catholic  popula- 
tion. After  living  in  wealth,  luxury,  and  infamy,  during  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  Henry  Luttrell  was  murdered  while  going 
through  Dublin  in  his  sedan  chair  ;  and  the  Irish  House  of 
Commons  declared  that  there  was  reason  to  suspect  that  he  had 
fallen  by  the  revenge  of  the  Papists. £  Eighty  years  after  his 
death,  his  grave  near  Luttrellstown  was  violated  by  the  descend- 
ants of  those  whom  he  had  betrayed,  and  his  skull  was  broken 
to  pieces  with  a  pickaxe. §  The  deadly  hatred  of  which  he  was 

*  D'Usson  and  Tesse  to  Barbasieux,  Oct.  7-17, 1691. 

t  That  there  was  Httle  sympathy  between  the  Celts  of  Ulster  and  those  of  the 
Southern  Provinces  is  evident  from  the  curious  memorial  which  the  agent  of 
Baldearg  O'Donnel  delivered  to  Avaux. 

t  Treasury  Letter  Book,  Jane  19, 1696 ;  Journals  of  the  Irish  House  of  Com- 
mons, Nov.  7,  1717. 

§  This  I  relate  on  Mr.  O'Callaghan's  authority.  History  of  the  Irish  Brigades, 
Note  47. 


the  object  descended  to  his  son  and  to  his  grandson  ;  and,  un- 
happily, nothing  in  the  character  either  of  his  son  or  of  his  grand- 
son tended  to  mitigate  the  feeling  which  the  name  of  Luttrell 

When  the  long  procession  had  closed,  it  was  found  that 
about  a  thousand  men  had  agreed  to  enter  into  William's  service. 
About  two  thousand  accepted  passes  from  Ginkell,  and  went 
quietly  home.  About  eleven  thousand  returned  with  Sarsfield 
to  the  city.  A  few  hours  after  the  garrison  had  passed  in 
review,  the  horse,  who  were  encamped  some  miles  from  the 
town,  were  required  to  make  their  choice  ;  and  most  of  them 
volunteered  for  France,  f 

Sarsfield  considered  the  troops  who  remained  with  him  as 
under  an  irrevocable  obligation  to  go  abroad ;  and,  lest  they 
should  be  tempted  to  retract  their  consent,  he  confined  them 
within  the  ramparts,  and  ordered  the  gates  to  be  shut  and 
strongly  guarded.  Ginkell,  though  in  his  vexation  he  muttered 
some  threats,  seems  to  have  felt  that  he  could  not  justifiably 
interfere.  But  the  precautions  of  the  Irish  general  were  far 
from  being  completely  successful.  It  was  by  no  means  strange 
that  a  superstitious  and  excitable  kerne,  with  a  sermon  and  a 
dram  in  his  head,  should  be  ready  to  promise  whatever  his 
priests  required :  neither  was  it  strange  that,  when  he  had  slept 
off  his  liquor,  and  when  anathemas  were  no  longer  ringing  in 
his  ears,  he  should  feel  painful  misgivings.  He  had  bound 
himself  to  go  into  exile,  perhaps  for  life,  beyond  that  dreary 

*  "There  is,"  Junius  wrote  eighty  years  after  the  capitulation  of  Limerick, 
"  a  certain  family  in  this  country  oil  which  nature  seems  to  have  entailed  a 
hereditary  baseness  of  disposition.  As  far  as  their  history  has  been  known,  the 
eon  has  regularly  improved  upon  the  vices  of  the  father,  and  has  taken  care  to 
transmit  them  pure  and  undimlnished  into  the  bosom  of  his  successors."  Else- 
where he  says  of  the  member  for  Middlesex,  "  He  has  degraded  even  the  name 
of  Lut'.rcll."  He  exclaims,  in  allusion  to  the  marriage  of  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land ai'd.  Mrs.  Horton,  who  was  born  a  Luttrell,  "  Let  Parliament  look  to  it.  A 
Luttrell  shall  never  succeed  to  the  Crown  of  England."  It  is  certain  that  very 
few  Englishmen  can  have  sympathised  with  Junius's  abhorrence  of  the  Luttrells, 
or  can  even  have  understood  it.  \Vhytliendid  he  use  expressions  which  to  the 
great  majority  of  liis  readers  must  have  been  unlntelig' ble  ?  My  answer  is  that 
Philip  Francis  was  born,  and  passed  the  first  ten  years  of  his  life,  within  a  walk 
of  Luttrellstown. 

t  Story's  Continuation  ;  London  Gazette,  Oct.  22,  1G91 ;  D'Usson  and  Tess6  to 
Lewis,  O*t.  4-11,  and  to  Barbesieux,  Oct.  7-17  ;  Light  to  tlie  Blind. 


expanse  of  waters  which  impressed  his  rude  mind  with  mysterious 
terror.  His  thoughts  ran  on  all  that  he  was  to  leave,  on  the 
well  known  peat  stack  and  potatoe  ground,  and  on  the  mud 
cabin,  which,  humble  as  it  was,  was  still  his  home.  He  was 
never  again  to  see  the  familiar  faces  round  the  turf  fire,  or  to 
hear  the  familiar  notes  of  the  old  Celtic  sonjjs.  The  ocean  was 


to  roll  between  him  and  the  dwelling  of  his  greyheaded  parents 
and  his  blooming  sweetheart.  There  were  some  who,  unable 
to  bear  the  misery  of  such  a  separation,  and  finding  it  impossible 
to  pass  the  sentinels  who  watched  the  gates,  sprang  into  the 
river  and  gained  the  opposite  bank.  The  number  of  these 
daring  swimmers,  however,  was  not  great ;  and  the  army  would 
probably  have  been  transported  almost  entire  if  it  had  remained 
at  Limerick  till  the  day  of  embarkation.  But  many  of  the 
vessels  in  which  the  voyage  was  to  be  performed  lay  at  Cork ; 
and  it  was  necessary  that  Sarsfield  should  proceed  thither  with 
some  of  his  best  regiments.  It  was  a  march  of  not  less  than 
four  days  through  a  wild  country.  To  prevent  agile  youths, 
familiar  with  all  the  shifts  of  a  vagrant  and  predatory  life, 
from  stealing  off  to  the  bogs  and  woods  under  cover  of  the 
night,  was  impossible.  Indeed  many  soldiers  had  the  audacity 
to  run  away  by  broad  daylight  before  they  were  out  of  sight 
of  Limerick  Cathedral.  The  Royal  regiment,  which  had,  on 
the  day  of  the  review,  set  so  striking  an  example  of  fidelity  to 
the  cause  of  James,  dwindled  from  fourteen  hundred  men  to 
five  hundred.  Before  the  last  ships  departed,  news  came  that 
those  who  had  sailed  by  the  first  ships  had  been  ungraciously 
received  at  Brest.  They  had  been  scantily  fed  :  they  had  been 
able  to  obtain  neither  pay  nor  clothing :  though  winter  was 
setting  in,  they  slept  in  the  fields  with  no  covering  but  the 
hedges ;  and  many  had  been  heard  to  say  that  it  would  have 
been  far  better  to  die  in  old  Ireland  than  to  live  in  the  inhospit- 
able country  to  which  they  had  been  banished.  The  effect  of 
these  reports  was  that  hundreds,  who  had  long  persisted  in  their 
intention  of  emigrating,  refused  at  the  last  moment  to  go  on 
board,  threw  down  their  arms,  and  returned  to  their  native 

•  Story's  Continuation ;  London  Gazette,  Jan.  4, 1691-2. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  209 

Sarsfield  perceived  that  one  chief  cause  of  the  desertion 
which  was  thinuiiig  his  army  was  the  natural  unwillingness 
of  the  men  to  leave  their  families  in  a  state  of  destitution. 
Cork  and  the  neighbouring  villages  were  filled  with  the  kindred 
of  those  who  were  going  abroad.  Great  numbers  of  women, 
many  of  them  leading,  carrying,  suckling  their  infants,  covered 
all  the  roads  which  led  to  the  place  of  embarkation.  The  Irish 
general,  apprehensive  of  the  effect  which  the  entreaties  and 
lamentations  of  these  poor  creatures  could  not  fail  to  produce, 
put  forth  a  proclamation,  in  which  he  assured  his  soldiers  that 
they  should  be  permitted  to  carry  their  wives  and  children  to 
France.  It  would  be  injurious  to  the  memory  of  so  brave  and 
loyal  a  gentleman  to  suppose  that  when  he  made  this  promise 
he  meant  to  break  it.  It  is  much  more  probable  that  he  had 
formed  an  erroneous  estimate  of  the  number  of  those  who  would 
demand  a  passage,  and  that  he  found  himself,  when  it  was  too 
late  to  alter  his  arrangements,  unable  to  keep  his  word.  After 
the  soldiers  had  embarked,  room  was  found  for  the  families  of 
many.  But  still  there  remained  on  the  waterside  a  great  multi- 
tude clamouring  piteously  to  be  taken  on  board.  As  the  last 
boats  put  off  there  was  a  rush  into  the  surf.  Some  women 
caught  hold  of  the  ropes,  were  dragged  out  of  their  depth,  clung 
till  their  fingers  were  cut  through,  and  perished  in  the  waves. 
The  ships  began  to  move.  A  wild  and  terrible  wail  rose  from 
the  shore,  and  excited  unwonted  compassion  in  hearts  steeled 
by  hatred  of  the  Irish  race  and  of  the  Romish  faith.  Even  the 
stern  Cromwellian,  now  at  length,  after  a  desperate  struggle  of 
three  years,  left  the  undisputed  lord  of  the  bloodstained  and 
devastated  island,  could  not  hear  unmoved  that  bitter  cry,  in 
which  was  poured  forth  all  the  rage  and  all  the  sorrow  of  a  con- 
quered nation.* 

The  sails  disappeared.  The  emaciated  and  brokenhearted 
crowd  of  those  whom  a  stroke  more  cruel  than  that  of  death 
had  made  widows  and  orphans  dispersed,  to  beg  their  way  home 
through  a  wasted  land,  or  to  lie  down  and  die  by  the  roadside 

*  Story's  Continuation;    Macarix  Excidium,  and  Mr.  O'Callagbau's  notej 
London  Gazette,  Jan.  4, 1691-2. 

VOL.  IV.— 14 


of  grief  and  hunger.  The  exiles  departed,  to  learn  in  foreign 
camps  that  discipline  without  which  natural  courage  is  of  small 
avail,  and  to  retrieve  on  distant  fields  of  battle  the  honour  which 
had  been  lost  by  a  long  series  of  defeats  at  home.  In  Ireland 
there  was  peace.  The  domination  of  the  colonists  was  absolute. 
The  native  population  was  tranquil  with  the  ghastly  tranquillity 
of  exhaustion  and  of  despair.  There  were  indeed  outrages, 
robberies,  fireraisings,  assassinations.  But  more  than  a  century 
passed  away  without  one  general  insurrection.  During  that 
century,  two  rebellions  were  raised  in  Great  Britain  by  the  ad- 
herents of  the  House  of  Stuart.  But  neither  when  the  elder 
Pretender  summoned  his  vassals  to  attend  his  coronation  at 
Scone,  nor  when  the  younger  held  his  court  at  Holyrood,  was 
the  standard  of  that  House  set  up  in  Connaught  or  Munster. 
In  1745,  indeed,  when  the  Highlanders  were  marching  towards 
London,  the  Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland  were  so  quiet  that  the 
Lord  Lieutenant  could,  without  the  smallest  risk,  send  several 
regiments  across  Saint  George's  Channel  to  reinforce  the  army 
of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland.  Nor  was  this  submission  the  effect 
of  content,  but  of  mere  stupefaction  and  brokenness  of  heart. 
The  iron  had  entered  into  the  soul.  The  memory  of  past  de- 
feats, the  habit  of  daily  enduring  insult  and  oppression,  had 
cowed  the  spirit  of  the  unhappy  nation.  There  were  indeed 
Irish  Roman  Catholics  of  great  ability,  energy  and  ambition  : 
but  they  were  to  be  found  every  where  except  in  Ireland,  at 
Versailles  and  at  Saint  Ildefonso,  in  the  armies  of  Frederic  and 
in  the  armies  of  Maria  Theresa.  One  exile  became  a  Marshal 
of  France.  Another  became  Prime  Minister  of  Spain.  If 
he  had  staid  in  his  native  land,  he  would  have  been  regarded  as 
an  inferior  by  all  the  ignorant  and  worthless  squireens  who  had 
signed  the  Declaration  against  Transubstantiation.  In  his  pal- 
ace at  Madrid  he  had  the  pleasure  of  being  assiduously  courted 
by  the  ambassador  of  George  the  Second,  and  of  bidding  defiance 
in  high  terms  to  the  ambassador  of  George  the  Third.*  Scat- 

*  Some  interesting  facts  relating  to  Wall,  who  was  minister  of  Ferdinand  the 
Sixth  and  Charles  the  Third,  will  be  found  in  the  letters  of  Sir  Benjamin  Keeue 
and  Lord  Bristol,  published  in  Coxe's  Memoirs  of  Spain. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  211 

tered  over  all  Europe  were  to  be  found  brave  Irish  generals, 
dexterous  Irish  diplomatists,  Irish  Counts,  Irish  Barons,  Irish 
Knights  of  Saint  Lewis  and  of  Saint  Leopold,  of  the  White 
Eagle  and  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  who,  if  they  had  remained  in 
the  house  of  bondage,  could  not  have  been  ensigns  of  marching 
regiments  or  freemen  of  petty  corporations.  These  men,  the 
natural  chiefs  of  their  race,  having  been  withdrawn,  what  re- 
mained was  utterly  helpless  and  passive.  A  rising  of  the  Irishry 
against  the  Englishry  'was  no  more  to  be  apprehended  than  a 
rising  of  the  women  and  children  against  the  men.* 

There  were  indeed,  in  those  days,  fierce  disputes  between  the 
mother  country  and  the  colony  :  but  in  such  disputes  the  abori- 
ginal population  had  no  more  interest  than  the  Red  Indians  in 
the  dispute  between  Old  England  and  New  England  about  the 
Stamp  Act.  The  ruling  few,  even  when  in  mutiny  against  the 
government,  had  no  mercy  for  any  thing  that  looked  like  mutiny 
on  the  part  of  the  subject  many.  None  of  those  Roman  patriots, 
who  poniarded  Julius  Caesar  for  aspiring  to  be  a  king,  would 
have  had  the  smallest  scruple  about  crucifying  a  whole  school  of 

*  This  is  Swift's  language,  language  held  not  once,  but  repeatedly  and  at  long 
intervals.  In  the  Letter  on  the  Sacramental  Test,  written  in  1708,  he  says  :  "  If 
we  were  under  any  real  fear  of  the  rapists  in  this  kingdom,  it  would  be  hard  to 
think  us  so  stupid  as  not  to  be  equally  apprehensive  with  others,  since  we  are 
likely  to  be  the  greater  and  more  immediate  sufferers  :  but,  on  the  contrary,  we 
look  upon  them  to  be  altogether  as  inconsiderable  as  the  women  and  children. 
....  The  common  people,  without  leaders,  without  discipline  or  natural  cour- 
age, being  little  better  than  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water,  are  out  of  all 
capacity  of  doing  any  mischief,  if  they  were  ever  so  well  inclined."  In  the 
Drapier's  Sixth  Letter,  written  in  1724,  he  says:  "As  to  the  people  of  this  king- 
dom, they  consist  either  of  Irish  Papists,  who  are  as  inconsiderable,  in  point  of 
power,  as  the  women  and  children,  or  of  English  Protestants."  Again,  in  the 
Presbyterians'  Plea  of  Merit,  written  in  1731,  he  says  :  "  The  estates  of  Papists 
are  very  few,  crumbling  into  small  parcels,  and  daily  diminishing  ;  their  com- 
mon people  are  sunk  iu  poverty,  ignorance,  and  cowardice,  and  of  as  little  conse- 
quence as  women  and  children.  Their  nobility  and  gentry  are  at  least  one  half 
ruined,  banished  or  converted.  They  all  soundly  feel  the  smart  of  what  they 
suffered  in  the  last  Irish  war.  Some  of  them  are  already  retired  into  foreign 
countries  :  others,  as  I  am  told,  intend  to  follow  them  ;  and  the  rest,  I  believe  to 
a  man,  who  still  possess  any  lands,  are  absolutely  resolved  never  to  hazard  them 
ajain  for  the  sake  of  establishing  their  superstition." 

I  may  observe  that,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  Swift  never,  in  anything  that  he 
wrote,  used  the  word  Irishman  to  denote  a  person  of  Anglosaxon  race  born  In 
Ireland.  He  no  more  considered  himself  as  an  Irishman  thau.  au  -Englishman 
born  at  Calcutta  considers  himself  as  a  Hindoo. 


gladiators  for  attempting  to  escape  from  the  most  odious  and 
degrading  of  all  kinds  of  servitude.  None  of  those  Virginian 
patriots,  who  vindicated  their  separation  from  the  British  empire 
by  proclaiming  it  to  be  a  selfevident  truth  that  all  men  were 
endowed  by  the  Creator  with  an  uualienable  right  to  liberty, 
would  have  had  the  smallest  scruple  about  shooting  any  negro 
slave  who  had  laid  claim  to  that  unalienable  right.  And,  in 
the  same  manner,  the  Protestant  masters  of  Ireland,  while 
ostentatiously  professing  the  political  doctrines  of  Locke  and 
Sidney,  held  that  a  people  who  spoke  the  Celtic  tongue  and 
heard  mass  could  have  no  concern  in  those  doctrines.  Moly- 
jieux  questioned  the  supremacy  of  the  English  legislature.  Swift 
assailed,  with  the  keenest  ridicule  and  invective,  every  part  of 
the  system  of  government.  Lucas  disquieted  the  administration 
of  Lord  Harrington.  Boyle  overthrew  the  administration  of 
the  Duke  of  Dorset.  But  neither  Molyneux  nor  Swift,  neither 
Lucas  nor  Boyle,  ever  thought  of  appealing  to  the  native  popu- 
lation. They  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  appealing  to  the 
swine.*  At  a  later  period  Henry  Flood  excited  the  dominant 
class  to  demand  a  Parliamentary  reform,  and  to  use  even  revo- 
lutionary means  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  that  reform.  But 
neither  he,  nor  those  who  looked  up  to  him  as  their  chief,  and 
who  went  close  to  the  verge  of  treason  at  his  bidding,  would 
consent  to  admit  the  subject  class  to  the  smallest  share  of  politi- 
cal power.  The  virtuous  and  accomplished  Charlemont,  a  Whig 
of  the  Whigs,  passed  a  long  life  in  contending  for  what  he  called 
the  freedom  of  his  country.  But  he  voted  against  the  law 
which  gave  the  elective  franchise  to  Roman  Catholic  freeholders, 
and  he  died  fixed  in  the  opinion  that  the  Parliament  House  ought 
to  be  kept  pure  from  Roman  Catholic  members.  Indeed,  during 
the  century  which  followed  the  Revolution,  the  inclination  of  an 
English  Protestant  to  trample  on  the  Irishry  was  generally 

*  In  1749  Lucas  was  the  idol  of  the  democracy  of  his  own  caste.  It  is  curious 
to  see  what  was  thought  of  him  by  those  who  were  not  of  his  own  caste.  One  of 
the  chief  Pariahs,  Charles  O'Connor,  wrote  thus  :  "  I  am  by  no  means  interested, 
nor i; any  of  our  unfortunate  population,  in  this  affair  of  Lucas.  A  true  patriot 
would  not  have  betrayed  such  malice  to  such  unfortunate  slaves  as  we."  He 
adds,  with  too  much  truth,  that  those  boasters  the  Whigs  wished  to  have  liberty 
all  to  themselves. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  213 

proportioned  to  the  zeal  which  he  professed  for  political  liberty 
in  the  abstract.  If  he  uttered  any  expression  of  compassion  for 
the  majority  oppressed  by  the  minority,  he  might  be  safely  set 
down  as  a  bigoted  Tory  and  High  Churchman.* 

All  this  time,  hatred,  kept  down  by  fear,  festered  in  the 
hearts  of  the  children  of  the  soil.  They  were  still  the  same 
people  that  had  sprung  to  arms  in  1641  at  the  call  of  O'Neill, 
and  in  1689  at  the  call  of  Tyrconnel.  To  them  every  festival 
instituted  by  the  State  was  a  day  of  mourning,  and  every  trophy 
set  up  by  the  State  was  a  memorial  of  shame.  We  have 
never  known,  and  can  but  faintly  conceive,  the  feelings  of  a 
nation  doomed  to  see  constantly  in  all  its  public  places  the 
monuments  of  its  subjugation.  Such  monuments  everywhere 
met  the  eye  of  the  Irish  Roman  Catholic.  In  front  of 
the  Senate  House  of  his  country,  he  saw  the  statue  which 
her  conquerors  had  set  up  in  honour  of  a  memory,  glorious 
indeed  and  immortal,  but  to  him  an  object  of  mingled  dread 
and  abhorrence.  If  he  entered,  he  saw  the  walls  tapestried  with 
the  most  ignominious  defeats  of  his  forefathers.  At  length,  after 
a  hundred  years  of  servitude,  endured  without  one  struggle 
for  emancipation,  the  French  revolution  awakened  a  wild  hope 
in  the  bosoms  of  the  oppressed.  Men  who  had  inherited  all 
the  pretensions  and  all  the  passions  of  the  Parliament  which 
James  had  held  at  the  King's  Inns  could  not  hear  unmoved  of 
the  downfall  of  a  wealthy  established  Church,  of  the  flight  of 
a  splendid  aristocracy,  of  the  confiscation  of  an  immense  terri- 
tory. Old  antipathies,  which  had  never  slumbered,  were  excited 
to  new  and  terrible  energy  by  the  combination  of  stimulants 
which,  in  any  other  society,  would  have  counteracted  each  other. 
The  spirit  of  Popery  and  the  spirit  of  Jacobinism,  irreconcilable 
antagonists  every  where  else,  were  for  once  mingled  in  an  un- 

*  On  this  subject  Johnson  was  the  most  liberal  politician  of  his  time.  "  The 
Irish,"  he  said  with  great  warmth,  "  are  in  a  most  unnatural  state:  for  we  see 
there  the  minority  prevailing  over  the  majority,"  I  suspect  that  Alderman 
Beckford  and  Alderman  Sawbridge  would  have  been  far  from  sympathising  with 
him.  Charles  O'Connor,  whose  unfavourable  opinion  of  the  Whig  Lucas  I  have 
qnoted,  pays,  in  the  Preface  to  the  Dissertations  on  Irish  History,  a  high,  con>* 
plLuient  to  the  liberality  of  the  Tory  Johnson. 


natural  and  portentous  union.  Their  joint  influence  produced 
the  third  and  lust  rising  up  of  the  aboriginal  population  against 
the  colony.  The  greatgrandsons  of  the  soldiers  of  Galmoy  and 
Sarsfield  were  opposed  to  the  greatgrandsons  of  the  soldiers  of 
Wolseley  and  Mitchelburn.  The  Celt  again  looked  impatiently 
for  the  sails  which  were  to  bring  succour  from  Brest ;  and  the 
Saxon  was  again  backed  by  the  whole  power  of  England.  Again 
the  victory  remained  with  the  well  educated  and  well  organised 
minority.  But,  happily,  the  vanquished  people  found  protection 
in  a  quarter  from  which  they  would  once  have  had  to  expect 
nothing  but  implacable  severity.  By  this  time  the  philosophy 
of  the  eighteenth  century  had  purified  English  Whiggism  from 
that  deep  taint  of  intolerance  which  had  been  contracted  during 
a  long  and  close  alliance  with  the  Puritanism  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  Enlightened  men  had  begun  to  feel  that  the  argu- 
ments, by  which  Milton  and  Locke,  Tillotson  and  Burnet,  had 
vindicated  the  rights  of  conscience,  might  be  urged  with  not  less 
force  in  favour  of  the  Roman  Catholic  than  in  favour  of  the 
Independent  or  the  Baptist.  The  great  party  which  traces  its 
descent  through  the  Exclusionists  up  to  the  Roundheads  con- 
tinued, during  thirty  years,  in  spite  of  royal  frowns  and  popular 
clamours,  to  delnand  a  share  in  all  the  benefits  of  our  free  con- 
stitution for  those  Irish  Papists  whom  the  Roundheads  and  the 
Exclusionists  had  considered  merely  as  beasts  of  chase  or  as 
beasts  of  burden.  But  it  will  be  for  some  other  historian  to 
relate  the  vicissitudes  of  that  great  conflict,  and  the  late  triumph 
of  reason  and  humanity.  Unhappily  such  a  historian  will  have 
to  relate  that  the  victory  won  by  such  exertions  and  by  such 
sacrifices  was  immediately  followed  by  disappointment :  that  it 
proved  far  less  easy  to  eradicate  evil  passions  than  to  repeal 
evil  laws ;  and  that,  long  after  every  trace  of  national  and  re- 
ligious animosity  had  been  obliterated  from  the  Statute  Book, 
national  and  religious  animosities  continued  to  rankle  in  the 
bosoms  of  millions.  May  he  be  able  also  to  relate  that  wisdom, 
justice,  and  time  did  in  Ireland  what  they  had  done  in  Scotland, 
and  that  all  the  races  which  inhabit  the  British  isles  were  at 
length  indissolubly  blended  into  one  people  ! 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  215 


ON  the  nineteenth  of  October  1G91,  William  arrived  at  Ken- 
sington from  the  Netherlands.*  Three  days  later  he  opened  the 
Parliament.  The  aspect  of  affairs  was,  oa  the  whole,  cheering. 
By  land  there  had  been  gains  and  losses :  but  the  balance  was 
in  favour  of  England.  Against  the  fall  of  Mons  might  well  be 
set  off  the  taking  of  Athlone,  the  victory  of  Aghrim,  the  surren- 
der of  Limerick,  and  the  pacification  of  Ireland.  At  sea  there 
had  been  no  great  victory  :  but  there  had  been  a  great  display 
of  power  and  of  activity  :  and,  though  many  were  dissatisfied 
because  more  had  not  been  done,  none  could  deny  that  there 
had  been  a  change  for  the  better.  The  ruin  caused  by  the  follies 
and  vices  of  Torrington  had  been  repaired :  the  fleet  had  been 
well  equipped :  the  rations  had  been  abundant  and  wholesome ; 
and  the  health  of  the  crews  had  consequently  been,  for  that  age, 
wonderfully  good.  Russell,  who  commanded  the  naval  forces 
of  the  allies,  had  in  vain  offered  battle  to  the  French.  The 
white  flag,  which,  in  the  preceding  year,  had  ranged  the  Chan- 
nel unresisted  from  the  Land's  End  to  the  Straits  of  Dover, 
now,  as  soon  as  our  topmasts  were  descried,  abandoned  the  open 
sea,  and  retired  into  the  depths  of  the  harbour  of  Brest.  The 
appearance  of  an  English  squadron  in  the  estuary  of  the  Shan- 
non had  decided  the  fate  of  the  last  fortress  which  had  held  out 
for  King  James  ;  and  a  fleet  of  merchantmen  from  the  Levant, 
valued  at  four  millions  sterling,  had,  through  danger  which  had ; 
caused  many  sleepless  nights  to  the  underwriters  of  Lombard 
Street,  been  convoyed  safe  into  the  Thames-t  The  Lords  and 

*  London  Gazette,  Oct.  22,  16HI. 

t  Bui-net,  ii.  78,  79;  Burchett's  Memoirs  of  Transaction^  at  Sea;  Journal  of 
the  English  and  Dutch  fleet,  in  a  Lette  from  an  Officer  on  board  the  Lennox,  at 
Torbay,  licensed  Aug.  21, 1691.  The  writer  says  :  "  We  attribute  our  health,  under 
God,  to  the  extraordinary  care  taken  in  the  well  ordering  of  our  provisions,  both 
meat  arid  drink." 


Commons  listened  with  signs  of  satisfaction  to  a  speech  in  which 
the  King  congratulated  them  on  the  event  of  the  war  in  Ireland, 
and  expressed  his  confidence  that  they  would  continue  to  sup- 
port him  in  the  war  with  France.  He  told  them  that  a  great 
naval  armament  would  be  necessary,  and  that,  in  his  opinion, 
the  conflict  by  land  could  not  be  effectually  maintained  with 
less  than  sixty -five  thousand  men.* 

He  was  thanked  in  affectionate  terms :  the  force  which  he 
asked  was  voted ;  and  large  supplies  were  granted  with  little 
difficulty.  But,  when  the  Ways  and  Means  were  taken  into 
consideration,  s}'mptoms  of  discontent  began  to  appear.  Eigh- 
teen months  before,  when  the  Commons  had  been  employed  in 
settling  the  Civil  List,  many  members  had  shown  a  very  natural 
disposition  to  complain  of  the  amount  of  the  salaries  and  fees* 
received  by  official  men.  Keen  speeches  had  been  made,  and, 
what  was  much  less  usual,  had  been  printed  :  there  had  been 
much  excitement  out  of  doors  :  but  nothing  had  been  done. 
The  subject  was  now  revived.  A  report  made  by  the  Commis- 
sioners who  had  been  appointed  in  the  preceding  year  to  examine 
the  public  accounts  disclosed  some  facts  which  excited  indigna- 
tion, and  others  which  raised  grave  suspicion.  The  House 
seemed  fully  determined  to  make  an  extensive  reform  ;  and,  in 
truth,  nothing  could  have  averted  such  a  reform  except  the 
folly  and  violence  of  the  reformers.  That  they  should  have 
been  angry  is  indeed  not  strange.  The  enormous  gains,  direct 
and  indirect,  of  the  servants  of  the  public  went  on  increasing, 
while  the  gains  of  everybody  else  were  diminishing.  Rents 
were  falling :  trade  was  languishing :  every  man  who  lived 
either  on  what  his  ancestors  had  left  him  or  on  the  fruits  of  his 
own  industry  was  forced  to  retrench.  The  placeman  alone 
throve  amidst  the  general  distress.  "  Look,"  cried  the  incensed 
squires,  "  at  the  Comptroller  of  the  Customs.  Ten  years  ago, 
he  walked,  and  we  rode.  Our  incomes  have  been  curtailed  :  his 
salary  has  been  doubled :  we  have  sold  our  horses :  he  has 
bought  them ;  and  now  we  go  on  foot  and  are  splashed  by  his 
coach  and  six."  Lowther  vainly  endeavoured  to  stand  up 

*  Lords'  and  Commons'  Journals,  Oct.  22, 1691. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  217 

against  the  storm.  He  was  heard  with  little  favour  by  those 
country  gentlemen  who  had  not  long  before  looked  up  to  him 
as  one  of  their  leaders.  He  had  left  them  :  he  had  become  a 
courtier :  he  had  two  good  places,  one  in  the  Treasury,  the 
other  in  the  household.  He  had  recently  received  from  the 
King's  own  hand  a  gratuity  of  two  thousand  guineas.*  It 
seemed  perfectly  natural  that  he  should  defend  abuses  by 
which  he  profited.  The  taunts  and  reproaches  with  which 
he  was  assailed  were  insupportable  to  his  sensitive  nature.  He 
lost  his  head,  almost  fainted  away  on  the  floor  of  the  House, 
and  talked  about  righting  himself  in  another  place. f  Unfortu- 
nately no  member  rose  at  this  conjuncture  to  propose  that  the 
civil  establishments  of  the  kingdom  should  be  carefully  revised, 
that  sinecures  should  be  abolished,  that  exorbitant  official 
incomes  should  be  reduced,  and  that  no  servant  of  the 
State  should  be  allowed  to  exact,  under  any  pretence,  anything 
beyond  his  known  and  lawful  remuneration.  In  this  way  it 
would  have  been  possible  to  diminish  the  public  burdens,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  increase  the  efficiency  of  every  public  depart- 
ment. But  on  this  as  on  many  other  occasions,  those  who  were 
loud  in  clamouring  against  the  prevailing  abuses  were  utterly 
destitute  of  the  qualities  necessary  for  the  work  of  reform.  On 
the  twelfth  of  December,  some  foolish  man,  whose  name  has 
not  come  down  to  us,  moved  that  no  person  employed  in  any 
civil  office,  the  Speaker,  Judges,  and  Ambassadors  excepted, 
should  receive  more  than  five  hundred  pounds  a  year  ;  and  this 
motion  was  not  only  carried,  but  carried  without  one  dissentient 
voice.J  Those  who  were  most  interested  in  opposing  it  doubt- 
less saw  that  opposition  would,  at  that  moment,  only  irritate  the 

*  This  appears  from  a  letter  written  by  Lowther,  after  he  became  Lord  Lons- 
dale,  to  bis  son.  A  copy  of  this  letter  is  among  tbe  Mackintosh  MSS. 

t  See  Commons'  Journals,  Dec.  3, 1G9I ;  and  Grey's  Debates.  It  is  to  be  regretted 
that  the  Report  of  the  Commissioners  of  Accounts  has  not  been  preserved.  Low- 
ther, in  his  letter  to  his  son,  alludes  to  the  badgering  of  this  day  with  great  bitter- 
ness. "  What  man,"  he  asks.  "  that  hath  bread  to  eat,  can  endure,  after  ha\  ing 
served  with  all  the  diligence  and  application  mankind  is  capable  of,  and  after 
having  given  satisfaction  to  the  King,  from  whom  all  officers  of  state  derive  their 
authoritie,  after  acting  rightly  by  all  men,  to  be  baited  by  men  who  do  it  to  All 
people  in  authoritie  ?  " 

t  Commons'  Journals,  Dec.  12, 1691. 


majority,  and  reserved  themselves  for  a  more  favourable  time. 
The  more  favourable  time  soon  came.  No  man  of  common  sense 
could,  when  his  blood  had  cooled,  remember  without  shame  that 
he  had  voted  for  a  resolution  which  made  no  distinction  between 
sinecurists  and  laborious  public  servants,between  clerks  employed 
in  copying  letters  and  ministers  on  whose  wisdom  and  integrity 
the  fate  of  the  nation  might  depend.  The  salary  of  the  Door- 
keeper of  the  Excise  Office  had  been,  by  a  scandalous  job,  raised 
to  five  hundred  a  year.  It  ought  to  have  been  reduced  to  fifty. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  services  of  a  Secretary  of  State  who  was 
well  qualified  for'  his  post  would  have  been  cheap  at  five  thou- 
sand. If  the  resolution  of  the  Commons  had  been  carried  into 
effect,  both  the  salary  which  ought  not  to  have  exceeded  fifty 
pounds,  and  the  salary  which  might  without  impropriety  have 
amounted  to  five  thousand,  would  have  been  fixed  at  five  hun- 
dred. Such  absurdity  must  have  shocked  even  the  roughest  and 
plainest  foxhuncer  in  the  House.  A  reaction  took  place  ;  and 
when,  after  an  interval  of  a  few  weeks,  it  was  proposed  to  insert 
in  a  bill  of  supply  a  clause  in  conformity  with  the  resolution  of 
the  twelfth  of  December,  the  Noes  were  loud  :  the  Speaker  was 
of  opinion  that  they  had  it :  the  Ayes  did  not  venture  to  dispute 
his  opinion  :  the  senseless  plan  which  hud  been  approved  with- 
out a  division  was  rejected  without  a  division  ;  and  the  subject 
was  not  again  mentioned.  Thus  a  grievance  so  scandalous  that 
none  of  those  who  profited  by  it  dared  to  defend  it  was  perpet- 
uated merely  by  the  imbecility  and  intemperance  of  those  who 
attacked  it.* 

Early  in  the  Session  the  Treaty  of  Limerick  became  the 
subject  of  a  grave  and  earnest  discussion.  The  Commons,  in 
the  exercise  of  that  supreme  power  which  the  English  legisla- 
ture possessed  over  all  the  dependencies  of  England,  sent  up  to 

*  Commons'  Journals,  Feb.  15,  1691-2 ;  Baden  to  the  States  General,  jA£— 5- 

On  the  8th  of  December  1797,  Mr.  John  Kicholls,  a  reformer  of  much  more  zeal 
than  wisdom,  proposed,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  a  resolution  framed  on  the 
model  of  the  resolution  of  the  12th  of  December  1691.  Mr.  Pitt  justly  remarked 
that  the  precedent  on  which  Mr.  Nicholls  relied  was  of  no  value,  for  that  the 
gentlemen  who  passed  the  resolution  of  the  12th  of  December  1601  had,  in  a  very 
short  time,  discovered  and  acknowledged  their  error.  The  debate  is  much  better 
given  in  the  Morning  Chronicle  than  in  the  Parliamentary  History. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  219 

the  Lords  a  bill  providing  that  no  person  should  sit  in  the  Irish 
Parliament,  should  hold  any  Irish  office,  civil,  military,  or  eccle- 
siastical, or  should  practise  law  or  medicine  in  Ireland,  till  he 
had  taken  the  Oaths  of  Allegiance  and  Supremacy,  and  sub- 
scribed the  Declaration  against  Transubstantiation.  The  Lords 
were  not  more  inclined  than  the  Commons  to  favour  the  Irish. 
No  peer  was  disposed  to  entrust  Roman  Catholics  with  political 
power.  Nay,  it  seems  that  no  peer  objected  to  the  principle  of 
the  absurd  and  cruel  rule  which  excluded  Roman  Catholics  from 
the  liberal  professions.  But  it  was  thought  that  this  rule, 
though  unobjectionable  in  principle,  would,  if'adopted  without 
some  exceptions,  be  a  breach  of  a  positive  compact.  Their 
Lordships  called  for  the  Treaty  of  Limerick,  ordered  it  to  be 
read  at  the  table,  and  proceeded  to  consider  whether  the  law 
framed  by  the  Lower  House  was  consistent  with  the  engage- 
ments into  which  the  government  had  entered.  One  discrep- 
ancy was  noticed.  It  was  stipulated  by  the  second  civil  article, 
that  every  person  actually  residing  in  any  fortress  occupied  by 
an  Irish  garrison  should  be  permitted,  on  taking  the  Oath  of 
Allegiance,  to  resume  any  calling  which  he  had  exercised  before 
the  Revolution.  It  would,  beyond  all  doubt,  have  been  a  viola- 
tion of  this  covenant  to  require  that  a  lawyer  or  a  physician, 
who  had  been  within  the  walls  of  Limerick  during  the  siege, 
and  who  was  willing  to  take  the  Oath  of  Allegiance,  should 
also  take  the  Oath  of  Supremacy  and  subscribe  the  Declaration 
against  Transubstantiation,  before  he  could  exercise  his  pro- 
fession. Holt  was  consulted,  and  was  directed  to  prepare  clauses 
in  conformity  with  the  terms  of  the  capitulation. 

The  bill,  as  amended  by  the  Chief  Justice,  was  sent  back 
to  the  Commons.  They  at  first  rejected  the  amendment,  and 
demanded  a  conference.  The  conference  was  granted.  Roches- 
ter, in  the  Painted  Chamber,  delivered  to  the  managers  of  the 
Lower  House  a  copy  of  the  Treaty  of  Limerick,  and  earnestly 
represente  1  the  importance  of  preserving  the  public  faith  invio- 
late. This  appeal  was  one  which  no  honest  man,  though  in- 
flamed by  national  and  religious  animosity,  could  resist.  The 
Commons  reconsidered  the  subject,  and,  after  hearing  the  treaty 


read,  agreed,  with  some  slight  modifications,  to  what  the  Lord? 
had  proposed.* 

The  bill  became  a  law.  It  attracted,  at  the  time,  little  no- 
tice, but  was,  after  the  lapse  of  several  generations,  the  subject 
of  a  very  acrimonious  controversy.  Many  of  us  can  well  re- 
member how  strongly  the  public  mind  was  stirred,  iu  the  days 
of  George  the  Third  and  George  the  Fourth,  by  the  question 
whether  Roman  Catholics  should  be  permitted  to  sit  in  Parlia- 
ment. It  may  be  doubted  whether  any  dispute  has  produced 
stranger  perversions  of  history.  The  whole  past  was  falsified 
for  the  sake  of*  the  present.  All  the  great  events  of  three  cen- 
turies long  appeared  to  us  distorted  and  discoloured  by  mist 
sprung  from  our  own  theories  and  our  own  passions.  Some 
friends  of  religious  liberty,  not  content  with  the  advantage  which 
they  possessed  in  the  fair  conflict  of  reason  with  reason,  weak- 
ened their  case  by  maintaining  that  the  law  which  excluded  Irish 
Roman  Catholics  from  Parliament  was  inconsistent  with  the  civil 
Treaty  of  Limerick.  The  first  article  of  that  Treaty,  it  was 
said,  guaranteed  to  the  Irish  Roman  Catholic  such  privileges  in 
the  exercise  of  his  religion  as  he  had  enjoyed  in  the  time  of 
Charles  the  Second.  In  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second  no  test 
excluded  Roman  Catholics  from  the  Irish  Parliament.  Such  a 
test  could  not  therefore,  it  was  argued,  be  imposed  without  a 
breach  of  public  faith.  In  the  year  1828,  especially,  this  argu- 
ment was  put  forward  in  the  House  of  Commons  as  if  it  had 
been  the  main  strength  of  a  cause  which  stood  in  need  of  no  such 
support.  The  champions  of  Protestant  ascendency  were  well 
pleased  to  see  the  debate  diverted  from  a  political  question  about 
which  they  were  in  the  wrong,  to  a  historical  question  about 
which  they  were  in  the  right.  They  had  no  difficulty  in  proving 
that  the  first  article,  as  understood  by  all  the  contracting  parties, 
meant  only  that  the  Roman  Catholic  worship  should  be  tolerated 
as  in  times  past.  That  article  was  drawn  up  by  Ginkell  ;  and, 
just  before  he  drew  it  up,  he  had  declared  that  he  would  rather 
try  the  chance  of  arms  than  consent  that  Irish  Papists  should 

*  Stat.  3  "W.  &  M.  c.  2,  Lords'  Journals ;  Lords'  Journals,  16  Nov.  1691 ;  Com- 
mons' Journals,  Dec.  1,  9,  5. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  221 

be  capable  of  holding  civil  and  military  offices,  of  exercising  lib- 
eral professions,  and  of  becoming  members  of  municipal  corpo- 
rations. How  is  it  possible  to  believe  that  he  would,  of  his  own 
accord,  have  promised  that  the  J louse  of  Lords  and  the  House 
of  Commons  should  be  open  to  men  to  whom  he  would  not  open 
a  guild  of  skinners  or  a  guild  of  cordwainers  ?  How,  again,  is  it 
possible  to  believe  that  the  English  Peers  would,  while  profes- 
sing the  most  punctilious  respect  for  public  faith,  while  lecturing 
the  Commons  on  the  duty  of  observing  public  faith,  while 
taking  counsel  with  the  most  learned  and  upright  jurist  of  the 
age  as  to  the  best  mode  of  maintaining  public  faith,  have  com- 
mitted a  flagrant  violation  of  public  faith,  and  that  not  a  single 
lord  should  have  been  so  honest  or  so  factious  as  to  protest 
against  an  act  of  monstrous  perfidy  aggravated  by  hypocrisy  ? 
Or,  if  we  could  believe  this,  how  can  we  believe  that  no  voice 
would  have  been  raised  in  any  part  of  the  world  against  such 
wickedness  ;  that  the  Court  of  Saint  Germains  and  the  Court  of 
Versailles  would  have  remained  profoundly  silent ;  that  no  Irish 
exile,  no  English  malecontent,  would  have  uttered  a  murmur ; 
that  not  a  word  of  invective  or  sarcasm  on  so  inviting  a  subject 
would  have  been  found  in  the  whole  compass  of  the  Jacobite 
literature  ;  and  that  it  would  have  been  reserved  for  politicians 
of  the  nineteenth  century  to  discover  that  a  treaty  made  in»  the 
seventeenth  century  had,  a  few  weeks  after  it  had  been  signed, 
been  outrageously  violated  in  the  sight  of  all  Europe.* 

On  the  same  day  on  which  the  Commons  read  for  the  first 
time  the  bill  which  subjected  Ireland  to  the  absolute  dominion 
of  the  Protestant  minority,  they  took  into  consideration  another 
matter  of  high  importance.  Throughout  the  country,  but 

*  The  Irish  Roman  Catholics  complained,  and  with  but  too  much  reason,  that, 
at  a  later  period,  the  Treaty  of  Limerick  was  violated  ;  but  those  very  complaints 
are  admission?  that  the  Statute  3  W.  &  M.  c.  2,  was  not  a  violation  of  the  Treaty. 
Thus  the  author  of  A  Light  to  the  Blind,  speaking  of  the  first  article,  says,  "  This 
article,  in  seven  years  after,  was  broken  by  a  Parliament  in  Ireland  summoned, 
by  the  Prince  of  Orance,  wherein  a  law  was  passed  for  banishing  the  Catho  ic 
bishops,  dignitaries,  and  regular  clergy."  Surelv  he  never  would  have  written 
thus,  if  the  article  really  had.  only  two  months  after  it  was  signed,  been  broken 
by  the  English  Parliament.  The  Abbe  Mac  Geoghegan.  too,  complains  that  the 
Treaty  was  violated  some  years  after  it  was  made.  But,  by  so  complaining,  he 
admits  that  it  was  not  violated  by  Stat.  3  W.  &  M.  c.  2. 


especially  in  the  capital,  in  the  seaports,  and  in  the  manufactur- 
ing towns,  the  minds  of  men  were  greatly  excited  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  trade  with  the  East  Indies  :  a  fierce  paper  war  had 
during  some  time  been  raging ;  and  several  grave  questions, 
both  constitutional  and  commercial,  had  been  raised,  which  the 
the  legislature  only  could  decide. 

It  has  often  been  repeated,  and  ought  never  to  be  forgotten, 
that  our  polity  differs  widely  from  those  polities  which  have, 
during  the  last  eighty  years,  been  methodically  constructed, 
digested  into  articles,  and  ratified  by  constituent  assemblies.  It 
grew  up  in  a  rude  age.  It  is  not  to  be  found  entire  in  any 
formal  instrument.  All  along  the  line  which  separates  the 
functions  of  the  prince  from  those  of  the  legislator  there  was 
long  a  disputed  territory.  Encroachments  were  perpetually 
committed,  and,  if  not  very  outrageous,  were  often  tolerated. 
Trespass,  merely  as  trespass,  was  commonly  suffered  to  pass  un- 
resented.  It  was  only  when  the  trespass  produced  some  posi- 
tive damage  that  the  aggrieved  party  stood  on  his  right  and  de- 
manded that  the  frontier  should  be  set  out  by  metes  and  bounds, 
and  that  the  landmarks  should  thenceforward  be  punctiliously 

Many  of  the  points  which  had  occasioned  the  most  violent 
disputes  between  our  Sovereigns  and  their  Parliaments  had 
been  finally  decided  by  the  Bill  of  Rights.  But  one  question, 
scarcely  less  important  than  any  of  the  questions  which  had 
been  set  at  rest  for  ever,  was  still  undetermined.  Indeed, 
that  question  was  never,  as  far  as  can  now  be  ascertained,  even 
mentioned  in  the  Convention.  The  King  had  undoubtedly,  by 
the  ancient  laws  of  the  realm,  large  powers  for  the  regulation 
of  trade  :  but  the  ablest  judge  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
say  what  was  the  precise  extent  of  those  powers.  It  was  uni- 
versally acknowledged  that  it  belonged  to  the  King  to  prescribe 
weights  and  measures,  and  to  coin  money  ;  that  no  fair  or 
market  could  be  held  without  authority  from  him  ;  that  no  ship 
could  unload  in  any  bay  or  estuary  which  he  had  not  declared 
to  be  a  port  In  addition  to  his  undoubted  right  to  grant  spe- 
cial comrrercial  privileges  to  particular  places,  he  long  claimed 


a  right  to  grant  special  commercial  privileges  to  particular 
societies  and  to  particular  individuals ;  and  our  ancestors,  as 
usual,  did  not  think  it  worth  their  while  to  dispute  this  claim, 
till  it  produced  serious  inconvenience.  At  length,  in  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth,  the  power  of  creating  monopolies  began  to  be 
grossly  abused ;  and,  as  soon  as  it  began  to  be  grossly  abused, 
it  began  to  be  questioned.  The  Queen  wisely  declined  a  con- 
flict with  a  House  of  Commons  backed  by  the  whole  nation. 
She  frankly  acknowledged  that  there  was  reason  for  complaint : 
she  cancelled  the  patents  which  had  excited  the  public  clam- 
ours ;  and  her  people,  delighted  by  this  concession,  and  by  the 
gracious  mariner  in  which  it  had  been  made,  did  not  require 
from  her  an  express  renunciation  of  the  disputed  prerogative. 

The  discontents  which  her  wisdom  had  appeased  were  re- 
vived by  the  dishonest  and  pusillanimous  policy  which  her  suc- 
cessor called  kingcraft.  He  readily  granted  oppressive  patents 
of  monopoly.  When  he  needed  the  help  of  his  Parliament, 
he  as  readily  annulled  them.  As  soon  as  the  Parliament  had 
ceased  to  sit,  his  Great  Seal  was  put  to  instruments  more  odious 
than  those  which  he  had  recently  cancelled.  At  length  that 
excellent  House  of  Commons  which  met  in  1623  determined  to 
apply  a  strong  remedy  to  the  evil.  The  King  was  forced  to 
give  his  assent  to  a  law  which  declared  monopolies  established 
by  royal  authority  to  be  null  and  void.  Some  exceptions,  how- 
ever, were  made,  and,  unfortunately,  were  not  very  clearly  de- 
fined. It  was  especially  provided  that  every  Society  of  Mer- 
chants which  had  been  instituted  for  the  purpose  of  carrying 
on  any  trade  should  retain  all  legal  privileges.*  The  question 
whether  a  monopoly  granted  by  the  Crown  to  such  a  society 
were  or  were  not  a  legal  privilege  was  left  unsettled,  and  con- 
tinued to  exercise,  during  many  years,  the  ingenuity  of  lawyers,  f 

*  Stat.  21  Jac.  I.  c.  3. 

t  See  particularly  Two  Letters  by  a  Barrister  concerning  the  East  India  Com- 
pany (1G7G),  ami  an  Answer  to  the  Two  Letters  published  in  the  same  year.  See 
also  the  Judgment  of  Lord  Jeffreys  concerning  the  Great  Case  of  Monopolies. 
This  judgment  was  published  ia*  1689,  after  the  downfall  of  Jeffreys.  It  was 
thought  necessary  to  apologise  in  the  preface  for  printing  anything  that  bore  so 
odious  a  name.  "  To  commend  this  argument,"  says  ths  editor.  "  I'll  not  under- 
take, because  of  the  author.  But  yet  I  may  tell  you  what  is  told  me,  that  it  is 


The  nation,  however,  relieved  at  once  from  a  multitude  of  im- 
positions and  vexations  which  were  painfully  felt  every  day  at 
every  fireside,  was  in  no  humour  to  dispute  the  validity  of  the 
charters  under  which  a  few  companies  in  London  traded  with 
distant  parts  of  the  world. 

Of  these  companies  by  far  the  most  important  was  that  which 
had  been,  on  the  last  day  of  the  sixteenth  century,  incorporated 
by  Queen  Elizabeth  under  the  name  of  the  Governor  and  Com- 
pany of  Merchants  of  London  trading  to  the  East  Indies.* 
When  this  celebrated  body  began  to  exist,  the  Mogul  monarchy 
was  at  the  zenith  of  power  and' glory.  Akbar,  the  ablest  and 
the  best  of  the  Princes  of  the  House  of  Tamerlane,  had  just 
been  borne,  full  of  years  and  honours,  to  a  mausoleum  surpassing 
in  magificence  any  that  Europe  could  show.  He  had  bequeathed  to 
his  posterity  an  empire  containing  more  than  twenty  times  the 
population,  and  yielding  more  than  twenty  times  the  revenue,  of 
the  England  which,  under  our  great  Queen,  held  a  foremost  place 
among  European  powers.  It  is  curious  and  interesting  to  con- 
sider how  little  the  two  countries,  destined  to  be  one  day  so 
closely  connected,  were  then  known  to  each  other.  The  most 
enlightened  Englishmen  looked  on  India  with  ignorant  admira- 
tion. The  most  enlightened  natives  of  India  were  scarcely 
aware  that  England  existed.  Our  ancestors  had  a  dim  notion 
of  endless  bazaars,  swarming  with  buyers  and  sellers,  and  blaz- 
ing with  cloth  of  gold,  with  variegated  silks,  and  with  precious 
stones  ;  of  treasuries  where  diamonds  were  piled  in  heaps,  and 
sequins  in  mountains  ;  of  palaces,  compared  with  which  White- 
hall and  Hampton  Court  were  hovels  ;  of  armies  ten  times  as 
numerous  as  that  which  they  had  seen  assembled  at  Tilbury  to 
repel  the  Armada.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  probably  not 
known  to  one  of  the  statesmen  in  the  Durbar  of  Agra  that  there 
was,  near  the  setting  sun,  a  great  city  of  infidels  called  London, 

worthy  any  gentleman's  perusal."  The  language  of  Jeffreys  is  most  offensive, 
sometimes  scurrilous,  sometimes  basely  adulatory  :  but  his  reasoning  as  to  the 
mere  point  of  law  is  certainly  able,  if  not  conclusive. 

*  I  have  left  my  account  of  the  East  India  Company  as  it  stood  in  1?55.    It  is 
unnecessary  to  say  that  it  contains  some  expressions  which  would  uot  hav 
used,  if  it  had  been  written  in  1858- 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  225 

where  a  woman  reigned,  and  that  she  had  given  to  an  association 
of  Frank  merchants  the  exclusive  privilege  of  freighting  ships 
from  her  dominions  to  the  Indian  seas.  That  this  association 
would  one  day  rule  all  India,  from  the  ocean  to  the  everlasting 
snow,  would  reduce  to  profound  obedience  great  provinces  which 
had  never  submitted  to  Akbar's  authority,  would  send  Lieutenant 
Governors  to  preside  in  his  capital,  and  would  dole  out  a  month- 
ly pension  lo  his  heir,  would  have  seemed  to  the  wisest  of  Euro- 
pean or  of  Oriental  politicians  as  impossible  as  that  inhabitants 
of  our  globe  should  found  an  empire  in  Venus  or  Jupiter. 

Three  generations  passed  away  ;  and  still  nothing  indicated 
that  the  East  India  Company  would  ever  become  a  great  Asia- 
tic potentate.  The  Mogul  empire,  though  undermined  by  inter- 
nal causes  of  decay,  and  tottering  to  its  fall,  still  presented  to 
distant  nations  the  appearance  of  undiminished  prosperity  and 
vigour.  Aurengzebe,  who,  in  the  same  month  in  which  Oliver 
Cromwell  died  assumed  the  magnificent  title  of  Conqueror  of  the 
World,  continued  to  reign  till  Anne  had  been  long  on  the 
lish  throne.  He  was  the  sovereign  of  a  larger  territory  than  had 
obeyed  any  of  his  predecessors.  His  name  was  great  in  the  far- 
thest regions  of  the  West.  Here  Ae  had  been  made  by  Drj7den  the 
hero  of  a  tragedy  which  would  alone  suffice  to  show  how  little 
the  English  of  that  age  knew  about  the  vast  empire  which  their 
grandchildren  were  to  conquer  and  to  govern.  The  poet's  Mus- 
sulman princes  make  love  in  the  style  of  Amadis,  preach  about 
the  death  of  Socrates,  and  embellish  their  discourse  with  allusions 
to  the  mythological  stories  of  Ovid.  The  Brahminical  metemp- 
sychosis is  represented  as  an  article  of  the  Mussulman  creed ; 
and  the  Mussulman  Sultanas  burn  themselves  with  their  husbands 
after  the  Brahminical  fashion.  This  drama,  once  rapturously 
applauded  by  crowded  theatres,  and  known  by  heart  to  fine 
gentlemen  and  fine  ladies,  is  now  forgotten.  But  one  noble 
passage  still  lives,  and  is  repeated  by  thousands  who  know  not 
whence  it  comes.* 

*  Addison's  Clarinda,  in  the  week  of  which  she  kept  a  journal,  read  nothing 
but  Aurengzebe  :  Spectator,  323.  Shs  dreamed  that  Mr.  Froth  lay  at  her  feet,  a:id 
called  her  Indamora.  Her  friend  Miss  Kitty  repeated,  without  book,  the  eight 
best  lines  of  the  play  ;  those,  no  doubt,  which  begin,  "  Trust  on,  and  think  to» 
morrow  will  repay."  There  are  not  eight  finer  lines  in  Lucretius. 

VOL.  IV.— 15 


Though  nothing  yet  indicated  the  high  political  destiny  of 
the  East  India  Company,  that  body  had  a  great  sway  in  the 
City  of  London.  The  offices,  built  on  a  very  small  part  of  the 
ground  which  the  present  offices  cover,  had  escaped  the  ravages 
of  the  fire.  The  India  House  of  those  days  was  an  edifice  of 
timber  and  plaster,  rich  with  the  quaint  carving  and  latticework 
of  the  Elizabethan  age.  Above  "the  windows  was  a  painting 
which  represented  a  fleet  of  merchantmen  tossing  on  the  waves. 
The  whole  was  surmounted  by  a  colossal  wooden  seaman, 
who,  from  between  two  dolphins,  looked  down  on  the  crowds 
of  Leadenhall  Street.*  In  this  abode,  narrow  and  humble  in- 
deed when  compared  with  the  vast  labyrinth  of  passages  and 
chambers  which  now  bears  the  same  name,  the  Company  en- 
joyed, during  the  greater  part  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond, a  prosperity  to  which  the  history  of  trade  scarcely  fur- 
nishes any  parallel,  and  which  excited  the  wonder,  the  cupidity, 
and  the  envious  animosity  of  the  whole  capital.  Wealth  and 
luxury  were  then  rapidly  increasing.  The  taste  for  the  spices, 
the  tissues,  and  the  jewels  of  the  East  became  stronger  day  by 
day.  Tea,  which  at  the  time  when  Monk  brought  the  army  of 
Scotland  to  London,  had  been  handed  round  to  be  stared  at 
and  just  touched  with  the  lips,  as  a  great  rarity  from  China,  was, 
eight  years  later,  a  regular  article  of  import,  and  was  soon  con- 
sumed in  such  quantities  that  financiers,  began  to  consider  it  as 
an  important  source  of  revenue.f  The  progress  which  was 
making  in  the  art  of  war  had  created  an  unprecedented  demand 
for  the  ingredients  of  which  gunpowder  is  compounded.  It 
was  calculated  that  all  Europe  would  hardly  produce  in  a  year 
saltpetre  enough  for  the  siege  of  one  town  fortified  on  the  prin- 
ciples of  Vauban.J  But  for  the  supplies  from  India,  it  was 

*  A  curious  engraving  of  the  India  House  of  the  seventeenth  century  will  be 
found  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  December  1784- 

t  It  is  a  curious  fact,  which  I  do  not  remember  to  have  ever  seen  noticed,  that 
tea  came  into  fashion,  and,  after  a  short  time,  went  out  of  fashion,  at  Paris,  some 
years  before  the  name  appears  to  have  been  known  in  London.  Cardinal  Mazarin 
and  the  Chancellor  Seguier  were  great  tea  drinkers.  See  the  letters  of  Gui  Patin 
to  Charles  Spon,  dated  March  10,  and  22, 1648,  and  April  1,  1657.  Patin  calls  the 
taste  for  tea  "  1'impertinente  nouveaut6  du  si^cle." 

t  See  Davenant's  Letter  to  Mulgrava. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  227 

said,  the  English  government  would  be  unable  to  equip  a  fleet 
without  digging  up  the  cellars  of  London  in  order  to  collect 
the  nitrous  particles  from  the  walls.*  Before  the  Restoration 
scarcely  one  ship  from  the  Thames  had  ever  visited  the  Delta 
of  the  Ganges.  But,  during  the  twenty-three  years  which  fol- 
lowed the  Restoration,  the  value  of  the  annual  imports  from 
that  rich  and  populous  district  increased  from  eight  thousand 
pounds  to  three  hundred  thousand. 

The  gains  of  the  body  which  had  the  exclusive  possession 
of  this  fast  growing  trade  were  almost  incredible.  The  capital 
which  hud  been  actually  paid  up  did  not  exceed  three  hundred 
and  seventy  thousand  pounds  :  but  the  Company  could,  without 
difficulty,  borrow  money  at  six  per  cent,  and  the  borrowed  money, 
thrown  into  the  trade,  produced,  it  was  rumoured,  thirty  per 
cent.  The  profits  were  such  that,  in  1676,  every  proprietor  re- 
ceived as  a  bonus  a  quantity  of  stock  equal  to  that  which  he 
held.  On  the  capital,  thus  doubled,  were  paid,  during  five 
years,  dividends  amounting  on  an  average  to  twenty  per  cent 
annually.  There  had  been  a  time  when  a  hundred  pounds  of 
the  stock  could  be  purchased  for  sixty.  Even  in  1664  the 
price  in  the  market  was  only  seventy.  But  in  1677  the  price 
had  risen  to  two  hundred  and  forty-five  :  in  1681  it  was  three 
hundred  :  it  subsequently  rose  to  three  hundred  and  sixty  ;  and 
it  is  said  that  some  sales  were  effected  at  five  hundred-! 

The  enormous  gains  of  the  Indian  trade  might  perhaps  have 
excited  little  murmuring  if  they  had  been  distributed  among  nu- 
merous proprietors.  But,  while  the  value  of  the  stock  went  on 
increasing,  the  number  of  stockholders  went  on  diminishing.  At 
the  time  when  the  prosperity  of  the  Company  reached  the  high- 
est point,  the  management  was  entirely  in  the  hands  of  a  few 
merchants  of  enormous  wealth.  A  proprietor  then  had  a  vote 
for  every  five  hundred  pounds  of  stock  that  stood  in  his  name. 
It  is  asserted  in  the  pamphlets  of  that  age  that  five  persons  had 

*  Answer  to  two  Letters  concerning  the  East  India  Company,  1676. 
t  Anderson's  Dictionary ;  G.  "White's  Account  of  the  Trade  to  the  East  Indies, 
1691 ;  Treatise  on  the  East  India  Trade,  by  Philopatris,  1681. 


a  sixth  part,  and  fourteen  persons  a  third  part  of  the  votes.* 
More  than  one  fortunate  speculator  was  said  to  derive  an  an- 
nual income  of  ten  thousand  pounds  from  the  monopoly  ;  and 
one  great  man  was  pointed  out  on  the  Royal  Exchange  as  hav- 
ing, by  judicious  or  lucky  purchases  of  stock,  created  in  no  long 
time  an  estate  of  twenty  thousand  a  year.  Fhis  commercial 
grandee,  who  in  wealth,  and  in  the  influence  which  attends 
wealth,  vied  with  the  greatest  nobles  of  his  time,  was  Sir  Jo- 
siah  Child.  There  were  those  who  still  remembered  him  an 
apprentice,  sweeping  one  of  the  counting  houses  of  the  City. 
But  from  a  humble  position  his  abilities  had  raised  him  rapidly 
to  opulence,  power,  and  fame.  Before  the  Restoration  he  was 
highly  considered  in  the  mercantile  world.  Soon  after  that 
event  he  published  his  thoughts  on  the  philosophy  of  trade.  His 
speculations  were  not  always  sound :  but  they  were  the  specu- 
lations of  an  ingenious  and  reflecting  man.  Into  whatever  er- 
rors he  may  occasionally  have  fallen  as  a  theorist,  it  is  certain 
that,  as  a  practical  man  of  business,  he  had  few  equals.  Almost 
as  soon  as  he  became  a  member  of  the  committee  which  directed 
the  affairs  of  the  Company,  his  ascendency  \vas  felt.  Soon 
many  of  the  most  important  posts,  both  in  Leadenhall  Street 
and  in  the  factories  ot'  Bombay  and  Bengal,  were  filled  by  his 
kinsmen  and  creatures.  His  riches,  though  expended  with  os- 
tentatious profusion,  continued  to  increase  and  multiply.  He 
obtained  a  baronetcy  :  he  purchased  a  stately  seat  at  "Wanstead  ; 
and  there  he  laid  out  immense  sums  in  excavating  fishponds, 
and  in  planting  whole  square  miles  of  barren  land  with  walnut 
trees.  He  married  his  daughter  to  the  eldest  son  of  the  Duke 
of  Beaufort,  and  paid  down  with  her  a  portion  of  fifty  thousand 
pounds. f 

But  this  wonderful  prosperity  was  not  uninterrupted.  To- 
wards the  close  of  the  reigti  of  Charles  the  Second  the  Company 
began  to  be  fiercely  attacked  from  without,  and  to  be  at  the 
same  time  distracted  by  internal  dissensions.  The  profits  of  the 

*  Keasons  for  constituting  a  New  Ea~t  India  Company  in  Lonrlon.  1CP1 ;  Soma 
Remarks  upo:i  the  Present  State  of  the  East  India  Company's  Afiairs,  1G90. 
f  Evelyn,  March  1C,  10*2-3. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  229 

Indian  trade  were  so  tempting  that  private  adventurers  had  some- 
times, in  defiance-  of  the  royal  charter,  fitted  out  ships  for  the 
Eastern  seas.  But  the  competition  of  these  interlopers  did  not  be- 
come really  formidable  till  the  year  1 680.  The  nation  was  then 
violently  agitated  by  the  dispute  about  the  Exclusion  Bill. 
Timid  men  were  anticipating  another  civil  war.  The  two  great 
parties,  newly  named  Whigs  and  Tories,  were  fiercely  contend- 
ing in  every  county  and  town  of  England  ;  and  the  feud  soon 
spread  to  every  corner  of  the  civilised  world  where  Englishmen 
were  to  be  found. 

The  Company  was  popularly  considered  as  a  Whig  body. 
Among  the  members  of  the  directing  committee  were  some  of 
the  most  vehement  Exclusionists  in  the  City.  Indeed  two  of 
them.  Sir  Samuel  Barnardistone  and  Thomas  Papillon,  drew  on 
themselves  a  severe  persecution  by  their  zeal  against  Popery 
and  arbitrary  power.*  Child  had  been  originally  brought  into 
the  direction  by  these  men :  he  had  long  acted  in  concert  with 
them  ;  and  he  was  supposed  to  hold  their  political  opinions. 
He  had  during  many  years,  stood  high  in  the  esteem  of  the  chiefs 
of  the  parliamentary  opposition,  and  had  been  especially  obnox- 
ious to  the  Duke  of  York,  f  The  interlopers  therefore  determined 
to  affect  the  character  of  royal  men,  who  were  determined  to 
stand  by  the  throne  against  the  insolent  tribunes  of  the  City. 
They  spread,  at  all  the  factories  in  the  East,  reports  that  England 
was  in  confusion,  that  the  sword  had  been  drawn  or  would  im- 
mediately be  drawn,  and  that  the  Company  was  forward  in  the 
rebellion.  These  rumours,  which,  in  truth,  were  not  improbable, 
easily  found  credit  among  people  separated  from  London  by 
what  was  then  a  voyage  of  twelve  months.  Some  servants  of 
the  Company  who  were  in  ill  humour  with  their  employers,  and 
others  who  were  zealous  royalists,  joined  the  private  traders. 
At  Bombay,  the  garrison  and  the  great  body  of  the  English 
inhabitants  declared  that  they  would  no  longer  obey  a  society 
which  did  not  obey  the  King  :  they  imprisoned  the  Deputy 
Governor  ;  and  they  proclaimed  that  they  held  the  island  for 
the  Crown.  At  Saint  Helena  there  was  a  rising.  The  insur- 

*  See  the  Stat^  Trials.  t  Pepys's  Diary,  April  2,  and  May  10,  1CC9. 


gents  took  the  name  of  King's  men,  and  displayed  the  royal 
standard.  They  were,  not  without  difficulty  put  down  ;  and 
some  of  them  were  excuted  by  martial  law.* 

If  the  Company  had  still  been  a  Whig  Company  when  the 
news  of  these  commotions  reached  England,  it  is  probable  that 
the  government  would  have  approved  of  the  conduct  of  the 
mutineers,  and  that  the  charter  on  which  the  monopoly  depended 
would  have  had  the  fate  which  about  the  same  time  befell  so 
many  other  charters.  But  while  the  interlopers  were,"  at  a  dis- 
tance of  many  thousands  of  miles,  making  war  on  the  Company 
in  the  name  of  the  King,  the  Company  and  the  King  had  been 
reconciled.  When  the  Oxford  Parliament  had  been  dissolved, 
when  many  signs  indicated  that  a  strong  reaction  in  favour  of 
prerogative  was  at  hand,  when  all  the  corporations  which  had 
incurred  the  royal  displeasure  were  beginning  to  tremble  for 
their  franchises,  a  rapid  and  complete  revolution  took  place  at 
the  India  House.  Child,  who  was  then  Governor,  or,  in  the 
modern  phrase,  Chairman,  separated  himself  from  his  old  friends, 
excluded  them  from  the  direction,  and  negotiated  a  treaty  of 
peace  and  of  close  alliance  with  the  Court. f  It  is  not  improb- 
able' that  the  near  connection  into  which  he  had  just  entered 
with  the  great  Tory  house  of  Beaufort  may  have  had  something 
to  do  with  this  change  in  his  politics.  Papillon,  Barnardistone, 
and  other  Whig  shareholders,  sold  their  stock  ;  their  places  in 
the  committee  were  supplied  by  persons  devoted  to  Child  ;  and 
he  was  henceforth  the  autocrat  of  the  Company.  The  treasures 
of  the  Company  were  absolutely  at  his  disposal.  The  most 
important  papers  of  the  Company  were  kept,  not  in  the  muni- 
ment room  of  the  office  in  Leadenhall  Street,  but  in  his  desk  at 
Wanstead.  The  boundless  power  which  he  exercised  at  the 
India  House  enabled  him  to  become  a  favourite  at  Whitehall ; 
and  the  favour  which  he  enjoyed  at  Whitehall  confirmed  his 
power  at  the  India  House.  A  present  of  ten  thousand  guineas 
was  graciously  received  from  him  by  Charles.  Ten  thousand 

*  Tench's  Modest  and  Just  Apology  for  the  East  India  Company,  1690. 
t  Some  Remarks  on  the  Present  State  of  the  East  India  Company's  Affairs, 
1690 ;  Hamilton's  New  Account  of  the  East  Indies. 


more  were  accepted  by  James,  who  readily  consented  to  become 
a  holder  of  stock.  All  who  could  help  or  hurt  at  Court,  minis- 
ters, mistresses,  priests,  were  kept  in  good  humour  by  presents 
of  shawls  and  silks,  birds'  nests  and  atar  of  roses,  bulses  of 
diamonds,  and  bags  of  guineas.*  Of  what  the  Dictator  expended 
no  account  was  asked  by  his  colleagues ;  and  in  truth  he  seems 
to  have  deserved  the  confidence  which  they  reposed  iu  him. 
His  bribes  distributed  with  judicious  prodigality,  speedily  pro- 
duced a  large  return.  Just  when  the  Court  became  all  power- 
ful in  the  State,  he  became  all  powerful  at  the  Court.  Jeffreys 
pronounced  a  decision  in  favour  of  the  monopoly,  and  of.  the 
strongest  acts  which  had  been  done  in  defence  of  the  monopoly. 
James  ordered  his  seal  to  be  put  to  a  new  charter  which  con- 
firmed and  extended  all  the  privileges  bestowed  on  the  Company 
by  his  predecessors.  All  captains  of  Indiamen  received  com- 
missions from  the  Crown,  and  were  permitted  to  hoist  the  royal 
ensigns.f  John  Child,  brother  of  Sir  Josiah,  and  Governor  of 
Bombay,  was  created  a  baronet  by  the  style  of  Sir  John  Child 
of  Surat:  he  was  declared  General  of  all  the  English  forces  in 
the  East ;  and  he  was  authorised  to  assume  the  title  of  Excel- 
lency. The  Company,  on  the  other  hand,  distinguished  itself 
among  many  servile  corporations  by  obsequious  homage  to  the 
throne,  and  set  to  all  the  merchants  of  the  kingdom  the  example 
of  readily  and  even  eagerly  paying  those  customs  which  James, 
at  the  commencement  of  his  reign,  exacted  without  the  authority 
of  Parliament.  J 

It  seemed  that  the  private  trade  would  now  be  utterly 
crushed,  and  that  the  monopoly,  protected  by  the  whole  strength 
of  the  royal  prerogative,  would  be  more  profitable  than  ever. 
But  unfortunately  just  at  this  moment  a  quarrel  arose  between 
the  agents  of  the  Company  in  India  and  the  Mogul  Government. 
Where  the  fault  lay  is  a  question  which  was  vehemently  disputed 
at  the  time,  and  which  it  is  now  impossible  to  decide.  The  in- 

*  White's  Account  of  the  East  India  Trade,  1C91 ;  Pierce  Butler's  Tale,  1691. 

t  White's  Account  of  the  Trade  to  the  East  Indies,  1691 ;  Hamilton's  New  Ac- 
count of  the  East  Indies ;  Sir  John  Wybonie  to  Pepys  from  Bombay,  Jan.  7, 

I  London  Gazette,  Feb.  16-26, 1684-5. 


terlopers  threw  all  the  blame  on  the  Company.  The  Governor 
of  Bombay,  they  affirmed,  had  always  been  grasping  and  violent: 
but  his  bai'onetcy  and  his  military  commission  had  completely 
turned  his  head.  The  very  natives  who  were  employed  about 
the  factory  had  noticed  the  change,  and  had  muttered  in  their 
broken  English,  that  .there  must  be  some  strange  curse  attend- 
ing the  word  Excellency  ;  for  that,  ever  since  the  chief  of  the 
strangers  was  called  Excellency,  everything  had  gone  to  ruin. 
Meanwhile,  it  was  said,  the  brother  in  England  had  sanctioned 
nil  the  unjust  and  impolitic  acts  of  the  brother  in  India,  till  at 
length  insolence  and  rapine,  disgraceful  to  the  English  nation 
and  to  the  Christian  religion,  had  roused  the  just  resentment  of 
the  native  authorities.  The  Company  warmly  recriminated. 
The  story  told  at  the  India  House  was  that  tho  quarrel  was 
entirely  the  work  or  the  interlopers,  who  were  now  designated 
not  only  as  interlopers  but  as  traitors.  They  had,  it  was  alleged, 
by  flattery,  by  presents,  and  by  false  accusations,  induced  the 
viceroys  of  the  Mogul  to  oppress  and  persecute  the  body  which 
in  Asia  represented  the  English  Crown.  And  indeed  this 
charge  seems  not  to  have  been  altogether  without  foundation. 
It  is  certain  that  one  of  the  most  pertinacious  enemies  of  tho 
Childs  went  up  to  the  Court  of  Aurengzebe,  took  his  station  at 
the  palace  gate,  stopped  the  Great  King  who  was  in  the  act  of 
mounting  on  horseback,  and  lifting  a  petition  high  in  the  air, 
demanded  justice  in  the  name  of  the  common  God  of  Christians 
and  Mussulmans.*  Whether  Aurengzebe  paid  much  attention 
to  the  charges  brought  by  infidel  Franks  against  each  other 
may  be  doubted.  But  it  is  certain  that  a  complete  rupture  took 
place  between  his  deputies  and  the  servants  of  the  Company. 
On  the  sea  the  ships  of  his  subjects  were  seized  by  the  English. 
On  land  the  English  settlements  were  taken  and  plundered. 
The  trade  Avas  suspended ;  and,  though  great  annual  dividends 
were  still  paid  in  London,  they  were  no  longer  paid  out  of 
annual  profits. 

Just  at  this  conjuncture,   while    every   Indiaman   that  ar- 
rived iu   the  Thames   was   bringing  unwelcome  news  from  the 

*  Hamilton's  Xe\v  Account  of  the  East  Indies. 

WILLIAM   AND    3IAKY.  233 

East,  all  the  politics  of  Sir  Josiah  were  utterly  confounded  by 
the  revolution.  He  had  flattered  himself  that  he  hud  secured 
the  body  of  which  he  was  the  chief  siga'nst  the  machinations 
of  interlopers,  by  uniting  it  closely  with  the  strongest  govern- 
ment that  had  existed  within  his  memory.  That  government 
had  fallen ;  and  whatever  had  leaned  on  the  ruined  fabric 
be^an  to  totter.  The  bribes  had  been  thrown  awav.  The 

O  » 

connections  which  had  been  the  strength-  and  boast  of  the  cor- 
poration were  now  its  weakness  and  its  shame.  The  King  who 
had  been  one  of  its  members  was  an  exile.  The  Judge  by  whom 
all  its  most  exorbitant  pretensions  had  been  pronounced  legiti- 
mate was  a  prisoner.  All  the  old  enemies  of  the  Company, 
reinforced  by  those  great  Whig  merchants  whom  Child  had  ex- 
pelled from  the  direction,  demanded  justice  and  vengeance  from 
the  Whig  House  of  Commons  which  had  just  placed  William 
and  Mary  on  the  throne.  No  voice  was  louder  in  accusation 
than  that  of  Papillon,  who  had,  some  years  before,  been  more 
zealous  for  the  charter  than  any  man  in  London.*  The  Com- 
mons censured  in  severe  terms  the  persons  who  had  inflicted 
death  by  martial  law  at  Saint  Helena,  and  even  resolved  that 
some  of  those  offenders  should  be  excluded  from  the  Act  of  In- 
demnity .f  The  great  question,  how  the  trade  with  the  East 
should  for  the  future  be  carried  on,  was  referred  to  a  Committee. 
The  report  was  to  have  been  made  on  the  twenty-seventh  of 
January  1690;  but  on  that  very  day  the  Parliament  ceased  to 

The  first  two  sessions  of  the  succeeding  Parliament  were  so 
short  and  so  busy  that  little  was  said  about  India  in  either  House. 
'But  out  of  Parliament,  all  the  arts  both  of  controversy  and  of 
intrigue  were  employed  on  both  sides.  Almost  as  many  pam- 
phlets were  published  about  the  India  trade  as 'about  the  oaths. 
The  despot  of  Leadenhall  Street  was  libelled  in  prose  and  verse. 

*  Papillon  was  of  course  reproached  with  his  inconsistency-  Among  the  pam- 
phlets of  that  time  is  0113  entitled,  "  A  Treatise  concerning  the  East  India  Trade, 
wrote  at  the  Instance  of  Thomas  Papillon,  Esquire,  and  in  hi:<  Ho;::  e.  nr.d  printed 
i-.i  the  year  1G80,  and  now  reprinted  for  the  better  Satisfaction  of  Liuiself  aud 

t  Commons'  Journals,  June  8, 1689. 


Wretched  puns  were  made  on  his  name.  He  was  compared  to 
Cromwell,  to  the  King  of  France,  to  Goliath  of  Gath,  to  the 
Devil.  It  was  vehemently  declared  to  be  necessary  that,  in  any 
Act  which  might  be  passed  for  the  regulation  of  our  traffic  with 
the  Eastern  seas,  Sir  Josiah  should  be  by  name  excluded  from 
all  trust.* 

There  were,  however,  great  differences  of  opinion  among 
those  who  agreed  in  hating  Child  and  the  body  of  which  he  was 
the  head.  The  manufacturers  of  Spitalfields,  of  Norwich,  of 
Yorkshire,  and  of  Wiltshire,  considered  the  trade  with  the  East- 
ern seas  as  rather  injurious  than  beneficial  to  the  kingdom.  The 
importation  of  Indian  spices,  indeed,  was  admitted  to  be  harmless, 
and  the  importation  of  Indian  saltpetre  to  be  necessary.  But 
the  importation  of  silks  and  of  Bengals,  as  shawls  were  then 
called,  was  pronounced  to  be  a  curse  to  the  country.  The  effect 
of  the  growing  taste  for  such  frippery  was  that  our  gold  and 
silver  went  abroad,  and  that  much  excellent  English  drapery  lay 
in  our  warehouses  till  it  was  devoured  by  the  moths.  Those, 
it  was  said,  were  happy  days  for  the  inhabitants  both  of  our 
pasture  lands  and  of  our  manufacturing  towns,  when  every  gown, 
every  waistcoat,  every  bed  was  made  of  materials  which  our 
own  flocks  had  furnished  to  our  own  looms.  Where  were  now 
the  brave  old  hangings  of  arras  which  had  adorned  the  walls  of 
lordly  mansions  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth  ?  And  was  it  not  a 
shame  to  see  a  gentleman,  whose  ancestors  had  worn  nothing 
but  stuffs  made  by  English  workmen  out  of  English  fleeces, 
flaunting  in  a  calico  shirt  arid  a  pair  of  silk  stockings  from  Moor- 
shedabad  ?  Clamours  such  as  these  had,  a  few  years  before, 
extorted  from  Parliament  the  Act  which  required  that  the  dead 
should  be  wrapped  in  woollen ;  and  some  sanguine  clothiers 
hoped  that  the  legislature  would,  by  excluding  all  Indian  textures 
from  our  ports,  impose  the  same  necessity  on  the  living.! 

*  Among  the  pamphlets  in  which  Child  is  most  fiercely  attacked,  are  :  Somo 
Remarks  011  the  Present  State  of  the  East  India  Company's  Affairs,  1690  ;  Pierce 
Butler's  Tale,  1601 ;  and  White's  Account  of  the  Tratle  to  the  East  Indies,  1601. 

t  Discourse  concerning  the  East  India  Trade,  showing  it  to  be  unprofitable  to 
the  Kingdom,  by  Mr.  Caiy  ;  Pierce  Butler's  Tale,  representing  the  State  of  the 
Wool  Case,  or  the  East  India  Trade  truly  stated,  1691.  Several  petitions  to  the 
eame  effect  will  be  found  in  the  Journals  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  235 

But  this  feeling  was  confined  to  a  minority.  The  public 
was,  indeed,  inclined  rather  to  overrate  than  to  underrate  the 
benefits  which  might  be  derived  by  England  from  the  Indian 
trade.  What  was  the  most  effectual  mode  of  extending  that 
trade  was  a  question  which  excited  general  interest,  and  which 
was  answered  in  very  different  ways. 

A  small  ptfrty,  consisting  chiefly  of  merchants  resident  at 
Bristol  and  other  provincial  seaports,  maintained  that  the  best 
way  to  extend  trade  was  to  leave  it  free.  They  urged  the  well 
known  arguments  which  prove  that  monopoly  is  injurious  to 
commerce  ;  and,  having  fully  established  the  general  law,  they 
asked  why  the  commerce  between  England  and  India  was  to  be 
considered  as  an  exception  to  that  law.  Any  trader  ought, 
they  said,  to  be  permitted  to  send  from  any  port  in  the  kingdom 
a  cargo  to  Surat  or  Canton  as  freely  as  he  now  sent  a  cargo  to 
Hamburg  or  Lisbon.*  In  our  time  these  doctrines  may  probably 
be  considered,  not  only  as  sound,  but  as  trite  and  obvious.  In  • 
the  seventeenth  century,  however,  they  were  thought  paradoxi- 
cal. It  was  then  generally  held  to  be  an  almost  selfevident 
truth,  that  our  trade  with  the  countries  lying  beyond  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope  could  be  advantageously  carried  on  only  by  means 
of  a  great  Joint  Stock  Company.  There  was  no  analogy,  it 
was  said,  between  our  European  trade  and  our  Indian  trade. 
Our  government  had  diplomatic  relations  with  the  European 
States.  If  necessary,  a  maritime  force  could  easily  be  sent  from 
hence  to  the  mouth  of  the  Elbe  or  of  the  Tagus.  But  the  Eng- 
lish Kings  had  no  envoy  at  the  Court  of  Agra  or  Pekin.  There 
was  seldom  a  single  English  man  of  war  within  ten  thousand 
miles  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal  or  the  Gulf  of  Siam.  As  our  mer- 
chants could  not,  in  those  remote  seas,  be  protected  by  their 
Sovereign,  they  must  protect  themselves,  and  must,  for  that 
end,  exercise  some  of  the  rights  of  sovereignty.  They  must 
have  forts,  garrisons,  and  armed  ships.  They  must  have  power 
to  send  and  receive  embassies,  to  make  a  treaty  of  alliance  with 
one  Asiatic  prince,  to  wage  war  on  another.  It  was  evidently 

*    Reasons  against  establishing  an  East  India  Company  with  a  Joint  Stock,  ex- 
clusive to  all  others,  1031. 


impossible  that  every  merchant  should  have  this  power  indepen- 
dently of  the  rest.  The  merchants  trading  to  India  must  there- 
fore be  joined  together  in  a  corporation  which  could  act  as  one 
man.  In  support  of  these  arguments  the  example  of  the  Dutch 
was  cited,  and  was  generally  considered  as  decisive.  For  in 
that  age  the  immense  prosperity  of  Holland  was  everywhere 
regarded  with  admiration,  not  the  less  earnest  because  it  was 
largely  mingled  with  envy  and  hatred.  In  all  that  related  to 
trade,  her  statesmen  were  considered  as  oracles,  and  her  institu- 
tions as  models. 

The  great  majority,  therefore,  of  those  who  assailed  the 
Company  assailed  it,  not  because  it  traded  on  joint  funds  and 
possessed  exclusive  privileges,  but  because  it  was  ruled  by  one 
man,  and  because  his  rule  had  been  mischievous  to  the  public, 
and  beneficial  only  to  himself  and  his  creatures.  The  obvious 
remedy,  it  was  said,  for  the  evils  which  hfs  maladministration 
had  produced  was  to  transfer  the  monopoly  to  a  new  corpora- 
tion so  constituted  as  to  be  in  no  danger  of  falling  under  the 
dominion  either  of  a  despot  or  of  a  narrow  oligarchy.  Many 
persons  who  were  desirous  to  be  members  of  such  a  corporation 
formed  themselves  into  a  society,  signed  an  engagement,  and 
entrusted  the  care  of  their  interests  to  a  committee  which  con- 
tained some  of  the  chief  traders  of  the  City.  This  society, 
though  it  had,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  no  personalty,  was  early 
designated,  in  popular  speech,  as  the  New  Company  ;  and  the 
hostilities  between  the  New  Company  and  the  Old  Company 
soon  caused  almost  as  much  excitement  and  anxiety,  at  least  in 
that  busy  hive  of  which  the  Royal  Exchange  was  the  centre,  as 
the  hostilities  between  the  Allies  and  the  French  King.  The 
Headquarters  of  the  younger  association  were  in  Dovvgate  :  the 
Skinners  lent  their  stately  hall  ;  and  the  meetings  were  held  in 
a  parlour  renowned  for  the  fragrance  which  exhaled  from  a 
magnificent  wainscot  of  cedar.* 

While  the  contention  was  hottest,  important  news  arrived 
from  India,  and  was  announced  in  the  London  Gazette  as  in  the 

*  The  engagement  was  printed,  and  has  been  several  times  reprinted.    As  to 
Skiuners  Hall,  see  Seymour's  History  of  London,  1734. 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  237 

highest  degree  satisfactory.  Peace  had  been  concluded  between 
the  Great  Mogul  and  the  English.  That  mighty  potentate  had 
not  only  withdrawn  his  troops  from  the  factories,  but  had  be- 
stowed on  the  Company  privileges  such  as  it  had  never  before 
enjoyed.  Soon,  however,  appeared  a  very  different  version  of 
the  story.  The  enemies  of  Child  had,  before  this  time,  accused 
him  of  systematically  publishing  false  intelligence.  He  had 
now,  they  said,  outlied  himself.  They  had  obtained  a  true  copy 
of  the  Firman  which  had  put  an  end  to  the  war  ;  and  they 
printed  a  translation  of  it.  It  appeared  that  Aurengzebe  had 
contemptuously  granted  to  the  English,  in  consideration  of  their 
penitence  aixl  of  a  large  trilu:e,  his  forgiveness  for  their  past 
delinquency,  had  charged  them  to  behave  themselves  better  for 
the  future,  and  had,  in  the  tone  of  a  master,  laid  on  them  his- 
commands  to  remove  the  principal  offender,  Sir  John  Child, 
from  power  and  trust.  The  death  of  Sir  John  occurred  so 
seasonably  that  these  commands  could  not  obeyed.  But  it  was 
only  too  evident  that  the  pacification  which  the  rulers  of  the 
India  House  had  represented  as  advantageous  and.  honourable 
had  really  been  effected  on  terms  disgraceful  to  the  English 

During  the  summer  of  1691,  the  controversy  which  raged  on 
this  subject  between  the  Leadenhall  Street  Company  and  the 
Dowgate  Company  kept  the  City  in  constant  agitation.  In 
the  autumn,  the  Parliament  had  no  sooner  met  than  both  the 
contending  parties  presenteJ  petitions  to  the  House  of  Cona- 
mons.f  The  petitions  were  immediately  taken  into  serious 
consideration,  and  resolutions  of  grave  importance  were  passed. 
The  first  resolution  was  that  the  trade  with  the  East  Indies 
was  beneficial  to  the  kingdom :  the  second  was  that  the  tnu'e 
with  the  East  Indies  would  be  best  carried  on  by  a  joint  stock 
company  possessed  of  exclusive  privileges. $  It  was  plain, 
therefore,  that  neither  those  manufacturers  who  wished  to  pro- 
hibit the  trade,  nor  those  merchants  at  the  outports  who  wished 
to  throw  it  open,  had  the  smallest  chance  of  attaining  their  ob- 

*  London  Gazette.  May  11, 1691 ;  White's  Account  of  tli3  East  India  T.ade. 
A  Commons'  Journals,  Oct.  23,  1631.  t  Ibid.  Oct.  29,  1691. 

238  HSTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

jects.  The  only  question  left  was  the  question  between  the 
Old  and  the  New  Company.  Seventeen  years  elapsed  before 
that  question  ceased  to  disturb  both  political  and  commercial 
circles.  It  was  fatal  to  the  honour  and  power  of  one  great 
minister,  and  to  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  many  private 
families.  The  tracts  which  the  rival  bodies  put  forth  against 
each  other  were  innumerable.  If  the  drama  of  that  age  may 
be  trusted,  the  feud  between  the  India  House  and  Skinners' 
Hall  was  sometimes  as  serious  an  impediment  to  the  course  of 
true  love  in  London  as  the  feud  of  the  Capulets  and  Montagues 
had  been  at  Verona.*  Which  of  the  two  contending  parties 
was  the  stronger  it  is  not  easy  to  say.  The  New  Company  was 
supported  by  the  Whigs,  the  Old  Company  by  the  Tories.  The 
New  Company  was  popular :  for  it  promised  largely,  and  could 
not  yet  be  accused  of  having  broken  its  promises  :  it  made  no 
dividends,  and  therefore  was  not  envied  :  it  had  no  power  to 
oppress,  and  had  therefore  been  guilty  of  no  oppression.  The 
Old  Company,  though  generally  regarded  with  little  favour  by 
the  public,  had  the  immense  advantage  of  being  in  possession, 
and  of  having  only  to  stand  on  the  defensive.  The  burden  of 
framing  a  plan  for  the  regulation  of  the  India  Trade,  and  of 
proving  that  plan  to  be  better  than  the  plan  hitherto  followed, 
lay  on  the  New  Company.  The  Old  Company  had  merely  to 
find  objections  to  every  change  that  was  proposed ;  and  such 
objections  there  was  little  difficulty  in  finding.  The  members 
of  the  New  Company  were  ill  provided  with  the  means  of  pur- 
chasing support  at  Court  and  in  Parliament.  They  had  no 
corporate  existence,  no  common  treasury.  If  any  of  them  gave 
a  bribe,  he  gave  it  out  of  his  own  pocket,  with  little  chance  of 
being  reimbursed.  But  the  Old  Company,  though  surrounded 
by  dangers,  still  held  its  exclusive  privileges,  and  still  made  its 
enormous  profits.  Its  stock  had  indeed  gone  down  greatly  in 
value  since  the  golden  days  of  Charles  the  Second  :  but  a  hun- 

*  Rowe  in  the  Biter,  which  was  damned,  and  deserved  to  be  so,  introduced  an 
old  gentleman  haranguing  his  daughter  thus  :  "  Thou  hast  been  bred  up  like  a 
virtuous  and  a  sober  maiden  ;  and  woul  dest  thou  take  the  part  of  a  profane  wretch 
who  sold  his  stock  out  of  the  Old  East  India  Company  ?  " 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  239 

dred  pounds  still  sold  for  a  hundred  and  twentj-two.*  After  a 
large  dividend  had  been  paid  to  the  proprietors,  a  surplus  re- 
mained amply  sufficient,  in  those  days,  to  corrupt  half  a  cabinet  ; 
and  this  surplus  was  absolutely  at  the  disposal  of  one  able,  de- 
termined, and  unscrupulous  man,  who  maintained  the  fight  with 
wonderful  art  and  pertinacity. 

The  majority  of  the  Commons  wished  to  effect  a  compro- 
mise, to  retain  the  Old  Company,  but  to  remodel  it,  and  to 
incorporate  with  it  the  members  of  the  New  Company.  With 
this  view  it  was,  after  long  and  vehement  debates  and  close  divis- 
ions, resolved  that  the  capital  should  be  increased  to  a  million 
and  a  half.  In  order  to  prevent  a  single  person  or  a  small  junto 
from  domineering  over  the  whole  society,  it  was  determined 
that  five  thousand  pounds  of  stock  should  be  the  largest  quantity 
that  any  single  proprietor  could  hold,  and  that  those  who  held 
more  should  be  required  to  sell  the  overplus  at  any  price  not 
below  par.  In  return  for  the  exclusive  privilege  of  trading 
to  the  Eastern  seas,  the  Company  was  to  be  required  to  furnish 
annually  five  hundred  tons  of  saltpetre  to  the  Crown  at  a  low 
price,  and  to  export  annually  English  manufactures  to  the  value 
of  two  hundred  thousand  pounds.  f 

A  bill  founded  on  these  resolutions  was  brought  in,  read 
twice,  and  committed,  but  was  suffered  to  drop  in  consequence 
of  the  positive  refusal  of  Child  and  his  associates  to  accept  the 
offered  terms.  He  objected  to  every  part  of  the  plan  ;  and  his 
objections  are  highly  curious  and  amusing.  The  great  mo- 
nopolist took  his  stand  on  the  principles  of  free  trade.  In  a 
luminous  and  powerfully  written  paper  he  exposed  the  absurdity 
of  the  expedients  which  the  House  of  Commons  had  devised. 
To  limit  the  amount  of  stock  which  might  stand  in  a  single 
name  would,  he  said,  be  most  unreasonable.  Surely  a  proprietor 
whose  whole  fortune  was  staked  on  the  success  of  the  Indian  trade 
was  far  more  likely  to  exert  all  his  faculties  vigorously  for  the 
promotion  of  that  trade  than  a  proprietor  who  had  risked  only 

*  Hop  to  the  States  General,  1691- 

t  Hop  mentions  the  ^ngth  and  warmth  of  the  debates  ;  Nov.  K-23,  1691. 
the  Commons'  Journals,  Dec.  17,  and  18. 


what  it  would  be^  no  great  disaster  to  lose.  The  demand  that 
saltpetre  should  be  furnished  to  the  Crown  for  a  fixed  sum  Chile] 
met  by  those  arguments,  familiar  to  our  generation,  which  prove 
that  prices  should  be  left  to  settle  themselves.  To  the  demand 
that  the  Company  should  bind  itself  to  'export  annually  two 
hundred  thousand  pounds'  worth  of  English  manufactures  he 
very  properly  replied  that  the  Company  would  most  gladly  ex- 
port two  millions'  worth  if  the  market  required  such  a  supply, 
and  that,  if  the  market  were  overstocked,  it  would  be  mere  folly 
to  send  good  cloth  half  round  the  world  to  be  eaten  by  white 
ants.  It  was  never,  lie  declared  with  much  spirit,  found  politic 
to  put  trade  into  straitlaced  bodices,  which,  instead  of  making 
it  grow  upright  and  thrive,  must  either  kill  it  or  force  it  awry. 

The  Commons,  irritated  by  Child's  obstinacy,  presented  an 
address  requesting  the  King  to  dissolve  the  Old  Company,  and 
to  grant  a  charter  to  a  new  Company  on  such  terms  as  to  His 
Majesty's  wisdom  might  seem  fit.*  It  is  plainly  implied  in  the 
terms  of  this  address  that  the  Commons  thought  the  King  con- 
stitutionally competent  to  grant  an  exclusive  privilege  of  trading 
to  the  East  Indies. 

The  King  replied  that  the  subject  was  most  important, 
that  he  would  consider  it  maturely,  and  that  he  would,  at  a 
future  time,  give  the  House  a  more  precise  answer.f  In 
Parliament  nothing  more  was  said  on  the  subject  during  that 
session :  but  out  of  Parliament  the  war  was  fiercer  than  ever  ; 
and  the  belligerents  were  by  no  means  scrupulous  about  the 
means  which  they  employed.  The  chief  weapons  of  the  New 
Company  were  libels :  the  chief  weapons  of  the  Old  company 
were  bribes. 

In  the  same  week  in  which  the  bill  for  the  regulation  of 
the  Indian  trade  was  suffered  to  drop,  another  bill,  which  had 
produced  great  excitement  and  had  called  forth  an  almost  un- 
precedented display  of  parliamentary  ability,  underwent  the 
same  fate. 

During  the  eight  years  which  preceded  the  Revolution,  the 
Whigs  had  complained  bitterly,  and  not  more  bitterly,  than 

*  Commons'  Journals,  Feb.  4,  and  6,  1691.  t  Ibid.  Feb.  11,  1G91. 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  241 

justly,  of  the  hard  measure  dealt  out  to  persons  accused  of  politi- 
cal offences.  Was  it  not  monstrous,  they  asked,  that  a  culprit 
should  be  denied  a  sight  of  his  indictment  ?  Often  an  unhappy 
prisoner  had  not  known  of  what  he  was  accused  till  he  had 
held  up  his  hand  at  the  bar.  The  crime  imputed  to  him  might 
be  plotting  to  shoot  the  King :  it  might  be  plotting  to  poison 
the  King.  The  more  innocent  the  defendant  was,  the  less  like- 
ly he  was  to  guess  the  nature  of  the  charge  on  which  he  was 
to  be  tried  ;  and  how  could  he  have  evidence  ready  to  rebut  a 
charge  the  nature  of  which  he  could  not  guess  ?  The  Crown 
had  power  to  compel  the  attendance  of  witnesses.  The  pris- 
oner had  no  such  power.  If  witnesses  voluntarily  came  for- 
ward to  speak  in  his  favour,  they  could  not  be  sworn.  Their 
testimony  therefore  made  less  impression  on  a  jury  than  the 
testimony  of  the  witnesses  for  the  prosecution,  whose  veracity 
was  guaranteed  by  the  most  solemn  sanctions  of  law  and  of 
religion.  The  juries,  carefully  selected  by  Sheriffs  whom  the 
government  had  named,  were  men  animated  by  the  fiercest  party 
spirit,  men  who  had  as  little  tenderness  for  an  Exclusionist  or  a 
Dissenter  as  for  a  mad  dog.  The  Crown  was  served  by  a 
band  of  able,  experienced,  and  unprincipled  lawyers,  who 
could,  by  merely  glancing  over  a  brief,  distinguish  every  weak 
and  every  strong  point  of  a  case,  whose  presence  of  mind  never 
failed  them,  whose  flow  of  speech  was  inexhaustible,  and  who 
had  passed  their  lives  in  dressing  up  the  worse  reason  so  as  to 
make  it  appear  the  better.  Was  it  not  horrible  to  see  three  or 
four  of  these  shrewd,  learned,  and  callous  orators  arrayed  against 
one  poor  wretch  who  had  never  in  his  life  uttered  a  word  in 
public,  who  was  ignorant  of  the  legal  definition  of  treason 
and  of  the  first  principles  of  the  law  of  evidence,  and 
whose  intellect,  unequal  at  best  to  a  fencing  match  with  pro- 
fessional gladiators,  was  confused  by  the  near  prospect  of  :\ 
cruel  and  ignominious  death  ?  Such  however  was  the  rule ; 
and  even  for  a  man  so  much  stupefied  by  sickness  that  he 
could  not  hold  up  his  hand  or  make  his  voice  heard,  even  for  a 
poor  old  woman  who  understood  nothing  of  what  passingexeppt 
that  she  was  going  to  be  roasted  alive  for  doing  an  act  of  chart 
VOL.  IV.— 16 


ty,  no  advocate  was  suffered  to  utter  a  word.  That  a  State 
trial  so  conducted  was  little  better  than  a  judicial  murder  had 
been,  during  the  proscription  of  the  Whig  party,  a  fundamental 
article  of  the  Whig  creed.  The  Tories,  on  the  other  hand, 
though  they  could  not  deny  that  there  had  been  some  hard 
cases,  maintained  that,  on  the  whole,  substantial  justice  had 
been  done.  Perhaps  a  few  seditious  persons  who  had  gone  very 
near  to  the  frontier  of  treason,  but  had  not  actually  passed  that 
frontier,  might  have  suffered  as  traitors.  But  was  that  a  suffi- 
cient reason  for  enabling  the  chief's  of  the  Rye  House  Plot  and 
of  the  Western  Insurrection  to  elude,  by  mere  chicanery,  the 
punishment  of  their  guilt  ?  On  what  principle  was  the  traitor 
to  have  chances  of  escape  which  were  not  allowed  to  the  felon  ? 
The  culprit  who  was  accused  of  larceny  was  subject  to  all  the 
same  disadvantages  which,  in  the  case  of  regicides  and  rebels, 
were  thought  so  unjust  :  yet  nobody  pitied  him.  Nobody 
thought  it  monstrous  that  he  should  not  have  time  to  study  a 
copy  of  his  indictment,  that  his  witnesses  should  be  examined 
without  being  sworn,  that  he  should  be  left  to  defend  himself, 
without  the  help  of  counsel,  against  the  most  crafty  veteran  of 
the  Old  Bailey  bar.  The  Whigs,  it  seemed,  reserved  all  their 
compassion  for  those  crimes  which  subvert  government  and 
dissolve  the  whole  frame  of  human  society.  Guy  Faux  was  to 
be  treated  with  an  indulgence  which  was  not  to  be  extended  to 
a  shoplifter.  Bradshaw  was  to  have  privileges  which  were  re- 
fused to  a  boy  who  had  robbed  a  henroost. 

The  Revolution  produced,  as  was  natural,  some  change  in 
the  sentiments  of  both  the  great  parties.  In  the  days  when 
none  but  Roundheads  and  Nonconformists  were  accused  of 
treason,  even  the  most  humane  and  upright  Cavaliers  were  dis- 
posed- to  think  that  the  laws  which  were  the  safeguards  of  the 
throne  could  hardly  be  too  severe.  But,  as  soon  as  loyal  Tory 
gentlemen  and  venerable  fathers  of  the  Church  were  in  danger 
of  being  called  in  question  for  corresponding  with  Saint  Ger- 
mains,  a  new  light  flashed  on  many  understandings  which  had 
been  unable  to  discover  the  smallest  injustice  in  the  proceedings 
against  Algernon  Sidney  and  Alice  Lisle.  It  was  no  longer 

•WILLIAM    AXD    MART.  243 

thought  utterly  absurd  te  maintain  that  some  advantages  which 
were  withheld  from  a  man  accused  of  felony  might  reasonably 
be  allowed  to  a  man  accused  of  treason.  What  probability  was 
there  that  any  sheriff  would  pack  a  jury,  that  any  barrister 
would  employ  all  the  arts  of  sophistry  and  rhetoric,  that  any 
judge  would  strain  law  and  misrepresent  evidence,  in  order  to 
convict  an  innocent  person  of  burglary  or  sheepstealing  ?  But 
on  a  trial  for  high  treason  a  verdict  of  acquittal  must  always  be 
considered  as  a  defeat  of  the  government ;  and  there  was  but 
too  much  reason  to  fear  that  many  sheriffs,  barristers,  and 
judges  might  be  impelled  by  party  spirit,  or  by  some  baser  mo- 
tive, to  do  anything  which  might  save  the  government  from  the 
inconvenience  and  shame  of  a  defeat.  The  cry  of  the  whole 
body  of  Tories  now  was  that  the  lives  of  good  Englishmen  who 
hippened  to  be  obnoxious  to  the  ruling  powers  were  not 
sufficiently  protected  :  and  this  cry  was  swelled  by  the  voices  of 
some  lawyers  who  had  distinguished  themselves  by  the  malignant 
zeal  and  dishonest  ingenuity  with  which  they  had  conducted 
State  prosecutions  in  the  days  of  Charles  and  James. 

The  feeling  of  the  Whigs,  though  it  had  not,  like  the  feeling 
of  the  Tories,  undergone  a  complete  change,  was  yet  not  quite 
what  it  had  been.  Some,  who  had  thought  it  most  unjust  that 
Russell  should  have  no  counsel  and  that  Cornish  should  have 
no  copy  of  his  indictment,  now  began  to  mutter  that  the  times 
had  changed  ;  that  the  dangers  of  the  State  were  extreme  ; 
that  liberty,  property,  religion,  national  independence,  were  all 
at  stake  ;  that  many  Englishmen  were  engaged  in  schemes  of 
which  the  object  was  to  make  England  the  slave  of  France  and 
of  Rome  ;  and  that  it  would  be  most  unwi»e  to  relax,  at  such  a 
moment,  the  laws  against  political  offences.  It  was  true  that 
the  injustice,  with  which,  in  the  late  reigns,  State  trials  had 
been  conducted,  had  given  great  scandal.  But  this  injustice 
was  to  be  ascribed  to  the  bad  kings  and  bad  judges  with  whom 
the  nation  had  been  cursed.  William  was  now  on  the  throne : 
Holt  was  seated  for  life  on  the  bench  ;  and  William  would  never 
exact,  nor  would  Holt  ever  perform,  services  so  shameful  and 
wicked  as  those  for  which  the  banished  tyrant  had  rewarded 


Jeffreys  with  riches  and  titles.  This  language  however  was  at 
first  held  but  by  few.  The  Whigs,  as  a  party,  seem  to  have 
felt  that  they  could  not  honourably  defend,  in  the  season  of 
their  prosperity,  what,  in  the  time  of  their  adversity,  they  had 
'always  designated  as  a  crying  grievance.  A  bill  for  regulating 
trials  in  cases  of  high  treason  was  brought  inu>  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  was  received  with  general  applause.  Treby  had 
the  courage  to  make  some  objections  :  but  no  division  took 
place.  The  chief  enactments  were  that  no  person  should  be 
convicted  of  high  treason  committed  more  than  three  years 
before  the  indictment  was  found ;  thut  every  person  indicted 
for  high  treason  should  be  allowed  to  avail  himself  of  the  assist- 
ance of  counsel,  and  should  be  furnished,  ten  days  before  the 
trial,  with  a  copy  of  the  indictment,  and  with  a  list  of  the  free- 
holders from  among  whom  the  jury  was  to  be  taken  ;  that  his 
witnesses  should  be  sworn,  and  that  they  should  be  cited  by  the 
same  process  by  which  the  attendance  of  the  witnesses  against 
him  was  secured. 

The  Bill  went  to  the  Upper  House,  and  came  back  with  an 
important  amendment.  The  Lords  had  long  complained  of  the 
anomalous  and  iniquitous  constitution  of  that  tribunal  which 
had  jurisdiction  over  them  in  cases  of  life  and  death.  When  a 
grand  jury  has  found  a  bill  of  indictment  against  a  temporal 
peer  for  any  offence  higher  than  a  misdemeanour,  the  Crown 
appoints  a  Lord  High  Steward  ;  and  in  the  Lord  High  Steward's 
Court  the  case  is  tried.  This  Court  was  anciently  composed  in  two 
very  different  ways.  It  consisted,  if  Parliament  happened  to  be  sit- 
ting, of  all  the  members  of  the  Upper  House.  When  Parliament 
was  not  sitting,  the  Lord  High  Steward  summoned  any  twelve  or 
more  peers  at  his  discretion  to  form  a  jury.  The  consequence 
was  that  a  peer  accused  of  high  treason  during  a  recess  was  tried 
by  a'  jury  which  his  prosecutors  had  packed.  The  Lords  now 
demanded  that,  during  a  recess  as  well  as  during  a  session,  every 
peer  accused  of  high  treason  should  be  tried  by  the  whole  body 
of  the  peerage. 

The  demand  was  resisted  by  the  House  of  Commons  with  a 
vehemence  and  obstinacy  which  men  of  the  present  generation 

WILLIAM    AND    MART  245 

may  find  it  difficult  to  understand.  The  truth  is  that  some 
invidious  privileges  of  peerage  which  have  since  been  abolished, 
and  others  which  have  since  fallen  into  entire  desuetude,  were 
then  in  full  force  and  were  daily  used.  No  gentleman  who  had 
had  a  dispute  with  a  nobleman  could  think,  without  indignation, 
of  the  advantages  enjoyed  by  the  favoured  caste.  If  His  Lord- 
ship were  sued  at  law,  his  privilege  enabled  him  to  impede  the 
course  of  justice.  If  a  rude  word  were  spoken  of  him,  such  a 
word  as  he  might  himself  utter  with  perfect  impunity,  he  might 
vindicate  his  insulted  dignity  both  by  civil  and  criminal  proceed- 
ings. If  a  barrister,  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  to  a  client 
spoke  with  severity  of  the  conduct  of  a  noble  seducer,  if  an  hon- 
est squire  on  the  racecourse  applied  the  proper  epithets  to  the 
tricks  of  a  noble  swindler,  the  affronted  patrician  had  only  to 
complain  to  the  proud  and  powerful  body  of  which  he  was  a 
member.  His  brethren  made  his  cause  their  own.  The  offend- 
er was  taken  into  custody  by  Black  Rod,  brought  to  the  bar, 
flung  into  prison,  and  kept  there  till  he  was  glad  to  obtain  for- 
giveness by  the  most  degrading  submissions.  Nothing  could 
therefore  be  more  natural  than  that  an  attempt  of  the  Peers  to 
obtain  any  new  advantage  for  their  order  should  be  regarded 
by  the  Commons  with  extreme  jealousy.  There  is  strong  reason 
to  suspect  that  some  able  Whig  politicians,  who  thought  it 
dangerous  to  relax,  at  that  moment,  the  laws  against  political 
offences,  but  who  could  not  without  incurring  the  charge  of  in- 
consistency, declare  themselves  adverse  to  any  relaxation,  had 
conceived  a  hope  that  they  might,  by  fomenting  the  dispute 
about  the  Court  of  the  Lord  High  Steward,  defer  for  at  least 
a  year  the  passing  of  a  bill  which  they  disliked,  and  yet  could 
not  decently  oppose.  If  this  really  was  their  plan,  it  succeeded 
perfectly.  The  Lower  House  rejected  the  amendment :  the 
Upper  housr>  persisted :  a  free  conference  was  held ;  and  the 
question .  was  argued  with  great  force  and  ingenuity  on  both 

The  reasons  in  favour  of  the  amendment  are  obvious,  and 
indeed  at  first  sight  seem  unanswerable.  It  was  surely  difficult 
to  defend  a  system  under  which  the  Sovereign  nominated  a  con 


clave  of  his  own  creatures  to  decide  the  fate  of  men  whom  he 
regarded  as  his  mortal  enemies.  And  could  anything  be  more 
absurd  than  that  a  nobleman  accused  of  high  treason  should  be 
entitled  to  be  tried  by  the  whole  body  of  his  peers  if  his  indict- 
ment happened  to  be  brought  into  the  House  of  Lords  the  min- 
ute before  a  prorogation,  but  that,  if  the  indictment  arrived  a 
minute  after  the  prorogation,  he  should  be  at  the  mercy  of  a 
small  junto  named  by  the  very  authority  which  prosecuted  him  ? 
That  anything  could  have  been  said  ou  the  other  side  seerns 
strange  :  but  those  who  managed  the  conference  for  the  Commons 
were  not  ordinary  men,  and  seem  on  this  occasion  to  have  put  forth 
all  their  powers.  Conspicuous  among  them  was  Charles  Monta- 
gue, who  was  rapidly  rising  to  the  highest  rank  among  the  orators 
of  that  age.  To  him  the  lead  seems  on  this  occasion  to  have  been 
left  ;  and  to  his  pen  we  owe  an  account  of  the  discussion,  which 
gives  an  excellent  notion  of  his  talents  for  debate.  "  We  have 
framed," — such  was  in  substance  his  reasoning, — "  We  have 
framed  a  law  which  has  in  it  nothing  exclusive,  a  law  which  will 
be  a  blessing  to  every  class,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest.  The 
new  securities,  which  we  propose  to  give  to  innocence  oppressed 
by  power,  are  common  between  the  premier  peer  and  the  hum- 
blest day  labourer.  The  clause  which  establishes  a  time  of 
limitation  for  prosecutions  protects  us  all  alike.  To  every 
E  iglishman  accused  of  the  highest  crime  against  the  state, 
whatever  be  his  rank,  we  give  the  privilege  of  seeing  his  in- 
dictment, the  privilege  of  being  defended  by  counsel,  the  privilege 
of  having  his  witnesses  summoned  by  a  writ  of  subpoena  and 
sworn  on  the  Holy  Gospels.  Such  is  the  bill  which  was  sent  up 
to  your  Lordships,  and  you  return  it  to  ns  with  a  clause  of 
which  the  effect  is  to  give  certain  advantages  to  your  noble 
order  at  the  expense  of  the  ancient  prerogatives  of  the  Crown. 
Surely  before  we  consent  to  take  away  from  the  King  any  pow- 
er which  his  predecessors  have  possessed  for  ages,  and  to  give 
it  to  your  Lordships,  we  ought  to  be  satisfied  that  you  are 
more  likely  to  use  it  well  than  he.  Something  we  must  risk 
somebody  we  must  trust ;  and  since  we  are  forced,  much  against 
our  will,  to  institute  what  is  necessarily  an  invidious  com- 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  247 

parison,  we  must  own  ourselves  unable  to  discover  any  reason 
for  believing  that  a  prince  is  less  to  be  trusted  than  an  aris- 
tocracy. Is  it  reasonable,  you  ask,  that  you  should  be  tried  for 
your  lives  before  a  few  members  of  your  House,  selected  by  the 
Crown  ?  Is  it  reasonable,  we  ask  in  our  turn,  that  you  should 
have  the  privilege  of  being  tried  by  all  the  members  of  your 
House,  that  is  to  say,  by  your  brothers,  your  uncles,  your  first 
cousins,  your  second  cousins,  your  fathers  in  law,  your  brothers 
in  law,  your  most  intimate  friends  ?  You  marry  so  much  into 
each  other's  families,  you  live  so  much  in  each  other's  society, 
that  there  is  scarcely  a  nobleman  who  is  not  connected  by  con- 
sanguinity or  affinity  with  several  others,  and  who  is  not  on 
terms  of  friendship  with  several  more.  There  have  been  great 
men  whose  death  put  a  third  or  fourth  part  of  the  baronage  of 
England  into  mourning.  Nor  is  there  much  danger  that  even 
those  peers  who  may  be  unconnected  with  an  accused  lord  will 
be  disposed  to  send  him  to  the  block  if  they  can  with  decency 
say  'Not  Guilty,  upon  my  honour.'  For  the  ignominious  death 
of  a  single  member  of  a  small  aristocratical  body  necessarily 
leaves  a  stain  on  the  reputation  of  his  fellows.  If,  indeed,  your 
Lordships  proposed  that  every  one  of  your  body  should  be  com- 
pelled to  attend  and  vote,  the  Crown  might  have  some  chance 
of  obtaining  justice  against  a  guilty  peer,  however  strongly 
connected.  But  you  propose  that  attendance  shall  be  voluntary. 
Is  it  possible  to  doubt  what  the  consequence  will  be  ?  All  the 
prisoner's  relations  and  friends  will  be  in  their  places  to  vote  for 
him.  Good  nature  and  the  fear  of  milking  powerful  enemies 
will  keep  away  many  who,  if  they  voted  at  all,  would  be  forced 
by  conscience  and  honour  to  vote  against  him.  The  new 
system  which  you  propose  would  therefore  evidently  be  unfair 
to  the  Crown  ;  and  you  do  not  show  any  reason  for  believing 
that  the  old  system  has  been  found  in  practice  unfair  to  your- 
selves. We  may  confidently  affirm  that,  even  under  a  govern- 
ment less  just  and  merciful  than  that  under  which  we  have  the 
happiness  to  live,  an  innocent  peer  has  little  to  fear  from  any 
set  of  peers  that  can  be  brought  together  in  Westminster  Hall 
to  try  him.  How  stands  the  fact  ?  In  what  single  case  has  a 


guiltless  head  fallen  by  the  verdict  of  this  packed  jury  ?  It 
would  be  easy  to  make  out  a  long  list  of  squires,  merchants,  law- 
yers, surgeons,  yeomen,  artisans,  ploughmen,  whose  blood,  bar- 
barously shed  during  the  late  evil  times,  cries  for  vengeance  to 
heaven.  But  what  single  member  of  your  House,  in  our  days, 
or  in  the  days  of  our  fathers,  or  in  the  days  of  our  grandfathers, 
suffered  death  unjustly  by  sentence  of  the  Court  of  the  Lord 
High  Steward  ?  Hundreds  of  the  common  people  were  sent  to 
the  gallows  by  common  juries  for  the  Rye  House  Plot  and  the 
Western  Insurrection.  One  peer,  and  one  alone,  my  Lord 
Delamere,  was  brought  at  that  time  before  the  Court  of  the 
Lord  High  Steward  ;  and  he  was  acquitted.  You  say  that  the 
evidence  against  him  was  legally  insufficient.  Be  it  so.  But  so 
was  the  evidence  against  Sidney,  against  Cornish,  against  Alice 
Lisle  j  yet  it  sufficed  to  destroy  them.  You  say  that  the  peers 
before  whom  my  Lord  Delamere  was  brought  were  selected  with 
shameless  unfairness  by  King  James  and  by  Jeffreys.  Be  it  so. 
But  this  only  proves  that,  under  the  worst  possible  King,  and 
under  the  worst  possible  High  Steward,  a  lord  tried  by  lords  has 
a-better  chance  for  life  than  a  commoner  who  puts  himself  on 
his  country.  We  cannot,  therefore,  under  the  mild  government 
which  we  now  possess,  feel  much  apprehension  for  the  safety  of 
any  innocent  peer.  Would  that  we  felt  as  little  apprehension 
for  the  safety  of  that  government  !  But  it  is  notorious  that  the 
settlement  with  which  our  liberties  are  inseparably  bound  up,  is 
attacked  at  once  by  foreign  and  by  domestic  enemies.  We  can- 
not consent,  at  such  a  crisis,  to  relax  the  restraints  which  have, 
it  may  well  be  feared,  already  proved  too  feeble  to  prevent  some 
men  of  high  rank  from  plotting  the  ruin  of  their  country.  To 
sum  up  the  whole,  what  is  asked  of  us  is  that  we  will  consent  to 
transfer  a  certain  power  from  their  Majesties  to  your  Lordships. 
Our  answer  is,  that  at  this  time,  in  our  opinion,  their  Majesties 
have  not  too  much  power,  and  your  Lordships  have  quite  power 

These  arguments,  though  eminently  ingenious,  and  not  with- 
out real  force,  failed  to  convince  the  Upper  House.  The 
Lords  insisted  that  every  peer  should  be  entitled  to  be  a  Trier. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  249 

The  Commons  were  with  difficulty  induced  to  consent  that  the 
number  of  Triers  should  never  be  less  than  thirty-six,  and  posi- 
tively  refused  to  make  any  further  concession.  The  bill  was 
therefore  suffered  to  drop.* 

It  is  certain  that  those  who  in  the  conference  on  this  bill 
represented  the  Commons  did  not  exaggerate  the  dangers  to 
which  the  government  was  exposed.  While  the  constitution 
of  the  Court  which  was  to  try  peers  for  treason  was  under  dis- 
cussion, a  treason  planned  with  rare  skill  by  a  peer  was  all  but 
carried  into  execution. 

Marlborough  had  never  ceased  to  assure  the  Court  of  Saint 
Germains  that  the  great  crime  which  he  had  committed  was 
constantly  present  to  his  thoughts,  and  that  he  Jived  only  for  the 
purpose  of  repentance  and  reparation.  Not  only  had  he  been 
himself  converted  :  he  had  also  converted  the  Princess  Anne.  In 
1688,  the  Churchills  had,  with  little  difficulty,  induced  her  to  fly 
from  her  father's  palace.  In  1691,  they,  with  as  little  difficulty, 
induced  her  to  copy  out  and  sign  a  letter  expressing  her  deep  con- 
cern for  his  misfortunes  and  her  earnest  wish  to  atone  for  her 
breach  of  duty.f  At  the  same  time  Marlborough  held  out  hopes 
that  it  might  be  in  his  power  to  effect  the  restoration  of  his  old 
master  in  the  best  possible  way,  without  the  help  of  a  single  for- 
eign soldier  or  sailor,  by  the  votes  of  the  English  Lords  and 
Commons,  and  by  the  support  of  the  English  army.  We  are  not 
fully  informed  as  to  all  the  details  of  his  plan.  But  the  outline 
is  known  to  us  from  a  most  interesting  paper  written  by  James, 
of  which  one  copy  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  and  another 
among  the  archives  of  the  French  Foreign  Office. 

The  jealousy  with  which  the  English  regarded  the  Dutch 
wa3  at  this  time  intense.  There  had  never  been  a  hearty  friend- 
ship between  the  nations.  They  were  indeed  near  of  kin  to 
each  other.  They  spoke  two  dialects  of  one  widespread  lan- 

*  The  History  of  this  bill  is  to  be  collected  from  the  bill  itself,  which  is  among 
tha  archives  of  the  Upper  House,  from  the  Journals  of  the  two  Houses,  during 
November  and  December  1690,  and  January  1691 ;  particularly  from  the  Com- 
mons' Journals  of  December  11,  and  January  13,  and  25,  and  the  Lords'  Journal! 
of  January  20,  and  28.  See  also  Grey's  Debates. 

t  The  letter,  dated  December  1, 169J,  is  iu  the  Life  of  James,  ii.  477. 


guage.  Both  boasted  of  their  political  freedom.  Both  were 
attached  to  the  reformed  faith.  Both  were  threatened  by  the 
same  enemy,  and  could  be  safe  only  while  they  were  united. 
Yet  there  was  no  cordial  feeling  between  them.  They  would 
probably  have  loved  each  other  more,if  they  had, in  some  respects, 
resembled  each  other  less.  They  were  the  two  great  commercial 
nations,  the  two  great  maritime  nations.  In  every  sea  their  flags 
were  found  together,  in  the  Baltic  and  in  the  Mediterranean, in  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  and  in  the  Straits  of  Malacca.  Every  where  the 
merchant  of  London  and  the  merchant  of  Amsterdam  were 
trying  to  forestall  each  other  and  to  undersell  each  other.  In 
Europe  the  contest  was  not  sanguinary.  But  too  often  in  bar- 
barous countries,  where  there  was  no  law  but  force, 
the  competitors  had  met,  burning  with  cupidity,  burning  with 
animosity,  armed  for  battle,  each  suspecting  the  other  of 
hostile  designs,  and  each  resolved  to  give  the  other  no  advan- 
tage. In  such  circumstances  it  is  not  strange  that  many  violent 
and  cruel  acts  should  have  been  perpetrated.  What  had  been 
done  in  those  distant  regions  could  seldom  be  exactly  known  in 
Europe.  Everything  was  exaggerated  and  distorted  by  vague 
report  and  by  national  prejudice.  Here  it  was  the  popular  be- 
lief that  the  English  were  always  blameless,  and  that  every 
quarrel  was  to  be  ascribed  to  the  avarice  and  inhumanity  of  the 
Dutch.  Lamentable  events  which  had  taken  place  in  the  Spice 
Islands  were  brought  on  our  stage.  The  Englishmen  were  all 
saints  and  heroes  ;  the  Dutchmen  all  fiends  in  human  shape, 
lying,  robbing,  ravishing,  murdering,  torturing.  The  angry 
passions  indicated  by  these  representations  had  more  than  once 
found  vent  in  war.  Thrice  in  the  lifetime  of  one  generation  the 
two  nations  had  contended  with  equal  courage  and  with  various 
success,  for  the  sovereignty  of  the  Ocean.  The  tyranny  of 
James,  as  it  had  reconciled  Tories  to  Whigs,  and  Churchmen  to 
Nonconformists,  had  also  reconciled  the  English  to  the  Dutch. 
WThile  our  ancestors  were  looking  to  the  Hague  for  deliverance, 
the  massacre  of  Amboyna  and  the  great  humiliation  of  Chatham 
had  seemed  to  be  forgotten.  But  since  the  Revolution  the  old 
feeling  had  revived.  Though  England  and  Holland  were  now 

"WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  251 

closely  boun<l  together  by  treaty,  they  were  as  far  as  ever  from 
being  bound  together  by  affection.  Once,  just  after  the  battle 
of  Beachy  Head,  our  countrymen  had  seemed  disposed  to  be 
just :  but  a  violent  reaction  had  speedily  followed.  TorringtoB, 
who  deserved  to  be  shot,  became  a  popular  favourite ;  arid  the 
allies  whom  he  had  shamefully  abandoned  were  accused  of  per- 
secuting him  without  a  cause.  The  partiality  shown  by  the 
King  to  the  companions  of  his  youth  was  the  favourite  theme 
of  the  sowers  of  sedition.  The  most  lucrative  posts  in  his 
household,  it  was  said,  were  held  by  Dutchmen :  the  House  of 
Lords  was  fast  filling  with  Dutchmen  :  the  finest  manors  of  the 
Crown  were  given  to  Dutchmen  :  the  army  was  commanded  by 
Dutchmen.  That  it  would  have  been  wise  in  William  to  ex- 
hibit somewhat  less  obtrusively  his  laudable  fondness  for  his  na- 
tive country,  and  to  remunerate  his  early  friends  somewhat 
more  sparingly  is  perfectly  true.  But  it  will  not  be  easy  to 
prove  that,  on  any  important  occasion  during  his  whole  reign, 
he  sacrificed  the  interests  of  our  island  to  the  interests  of  the 
United  Provinces.  The  English,  however,  were  on  this,  sub- 
ject prone  to  fits  of  jealousy  which  made  them  quite  incapable 
of  listening  to  reason.  One  of  the  sharpest  of  those  fits  came 
on  in  the  autumn  of  1691.  The  antipathy  to  the  Dutch  was  at 
that  time  strong  in  all  classes,  and  no  where  stronger  than  in 
the  Parliament  and  in  the  army.* 

Of  that  antipathy  Marl  borough  determined  to  avail  himself 
for  the  purpose,  as  he  assured  James  and  James's  adherents,  of 
effecting  a  restoration.  The  temper  of  both  Houses  was  such 
that  they  might  not  improbably  be  induced  by  skilful  manage- 
ment to  present  a  joint  address  requesting  that  all  foreigners 
might  be  dismissed  from  the  service  of  their  Majesties.  Marl- 
borough  undertook  to  move  such  an  address  in  the  Lords ; 
and  there  would  have  been  no  difficulty  in  finding  some  gentle- 

*  Burner,  ii.  85  ;  and  Buriiet  MS.  Harl.  f>584.  See  also  a  memorial  signed  by 
Holmes,  but  consisting  of  intelligence  furnished  by  Ferguson,  among  the  extracts 
from  the  Nnirne  Papers,  printed  by  Macpherson.  It  bears  date  October  IC01. 
"  The  Prince  of  Orange."  says  Holmes,  "  is  mortally  hated  by  the  English.  They 
see  very  fairly  that  he  hath  no  love  for  them  ;  neither  doth  he  confide  in  'hem, 

but  all  in  his  Dutch It's  not  doubted  but  the  Parliament  will  not  be  for 

foreigners  to  ride  them  with  a  caveson." 


man  of  great  weight  to  make  a  similar  motion  in  the  Commons. 
If  the  address  should  be  carried,  what  could  William  do  ? 
Would  he  yield  ?  Would  he  discard  all  his  dearest,  his  oldest, 
his  most  trusty  friends  ?  It  was  hardly  possible  to  believe  that 
he  would  make  so  painful,  so  humiliating,  a  concession.  If  he 
did  not  yield,  there  would  be  a  rupture  between  him  and  the 
Parliament ;  and  the  Parliament  would  be  backed  by  the  people. 
Even  a  King  reigning  by  a  hereditary  title  might  well  shrink 
from  such  a  contest  with  the  Estates  of  the  Realm.  But  to  a 
King  whose  title  rested  on  a  resolution  of  the  Estates  of  the 
Realm  such  a  contest  must  almost  necessarily  be  fatal.  The 
last  hope  of  William  would  be  in  the  army.  The  army  Marl- 
borough  undertook  to  manage  ;  and  it  is  highly  probable  that 
what  he  undertook  he  could  have  performed.  His  courage,  his 
abilities,  his  noble  and  winning  manners,  the  splendid  success 
which  had  attended  him  on  every  occasion  on  which  he  had 
been  in  command,  had  made  him,  in  spite  of  his  sordid  vices,  a 
favourite  with  his  brethren  in  arms.  They  were  proud  of  having 
one  countryman  who  had  shown  that  he  wanted  nothing  but 
opportunity  to  vie  with  the  ablest  Marshal  of  France.  The 
Dutch  were  even  more  disliked  by  the  English  troops  than  by 
the  English  nation  generally.  Had  Marlborough,  therefore, 
after  securing  the  cooperation  of  some  distinguished  officers, 
presented  himself  at  the  critical  moment  to  those  regiments 
which  he  had  led  to  victory  in  Flanders  and  in  Ireland,  had  he 
called  on  them  to  rally  round  him,  to  protect  the  Parliament, 
and  to  drive  out  the  aliens,  there  is  strong  reason  to  think  that 
the  call  would  have  been  obeyed.  He  would  then  have  had  it 
in  his  power  to  fulfil  the  promises  which  he  had  so  solemnly 
made  to  his  old  master. 

Of  all  the  schemes  ever  formed  for  the  restoration  of  James 
or  of  his  descendants,  this  scheme  promised  the  fairest.  That 
national  pride,  that  hatred  of  arbitrary  power,  which  had 
hitherto  been  on -William's  side,  would  now  be  turned  against 
him.  Hundreds  of  thousands,  who  would  have  put  their  lives 
in  jeopardy  to  prevent  a  French  army  from  imposing  a  govern- 
ment on  the  English,  would  have  felt  no  disposition  to  prevent 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  253 

an  English  army  from  driving  out  the  Dutch.  Even  the  Whigs 
could  scarcely,  without  renouncing  their  old  doctrines,  support 
a  prince  who  obstinately  refused  to  comply  with  the  general 
wish  of  his  people  signified  to  him  by  his  Parliament.  The 
plot  looked  well.  An  active  canvass  was  made.  Many 
members  of  the  House  of  Commons,  who  did  not  at  all  suspect 
that  there  was  any  ulterior  design,  promised  to  vote  against  the 
foreigners.  Marlborough  was  indefatigable  in  inflaming  the 
discontents  of  the  army.  His  house  was  constantly  filled  with 
officers  who  heated  each  other  into  fury  by  talking  against  the 
Dutch.  But,  before  the  preparations  were  complete,  a  strange 
suspicion  rose  in  the  minds  of  some  of  the  Jacobites.  That  the 
author  of  this  bold  and  artful  scheme  wished  to  pull  down  the 
existing  government  there  could  be  little  doubt.  But  was  it 
quite  certain  what  government  he  meant  to  set  up  ?  Might  he 
not  depose  William  without  restoring  James  ?  Was  it  not 
possible  that  a  man  so  wise,  so  aspiring,  and  so  wicked,  might 
be  meditating  a  double  treason,  such  as  would  have  been  thought 
a  masterpiece  of  statecraft  by  the  great  Italian  politicians  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  such  as  Borgia  would  have  envied,  such  as 
Machiavel  would  have  extolled  to  the  skies  ?  What  if  this  con- 
summate dissembler  should  cheat  both  the  rival  kings  ?  What 
if,  when  he  found  himself  commander  of  the  army  and  protector 
of  the  Parliament,  he  should  proclaim  Queen  Anne  ?  Was  it 
not  possible  that  the  weary  and  harassed  nation  might  gladly 
acquiesce  in  such  a  settlement  ?  James  was  unpopular  because 
he  was  a  Papist  influenced  by  Popish  priests.  William  was 
unpopular  because  he  was  a  foreigner  attached  to  foreign  favour- 
ites. Anne  was  at  once  a  Protestant  and  an  Englishwoman. 
Under  her  government  the  country  would  be  in  no  danger  of 
being  overrun  either  by  Jesuits  or  by  Dutchmen.  That  Marl- 
borough  had  the  strongest  motives  for  placing  her  on  the  throne 
was  evident.  He  could  never,  in  the  court  of  her  father,  be  more 
than  a  repentant  criminal,  whose  services  were  overpaid  by  a 
pardon.  In  her  court  the  husband  of  her  adored  friend  would 
be  what  Pepin  Heristal  and  Charles  Martel  had  been  to  the  Chil- 
perics  and  Childeberts.  He  would  be  the  chief  director  of  the 


civil  and  military  government.  He  would  wield  the  whole  power 
of  England.  lie  would  hold  the  balance  of  Europe.  Great  kings 
and  commonwealths  would  bid  against  each  other  for  his  favour, 
and  exhaust  their  treasuries  in  the  vain  hope  of  satiating  his 
avarice.  The  presumption  was,  therefore,  that  if  lu;  had  the 
English  crown  in  his  hands,  he  would  put  it  on  the  head  of  the 
Princess.  What  evidence  there  was  to  confirm  this  presumption 
is  not  known :  but  it  is  certain  that  something  took  place 
which  convinced  some  of  the  most  devoted  friends  of  the  exiled 
family  that  he  was  meditating  a  second  perfidy,  surpassing  even 
the  feat  which  he  had  performed  at  Salisbury.  They  were  afraid 
that  if,  at  that  moment,  they  succeeded  in  getting  rid  of  William, 
the  situation  of  James  would  be  more  hopeless  than  ever.  So 
fully  were  they  persuaded  of  the  duplicity  of  their  accomplice, 
that  they  not  only  refused  to  proceed  further  in  the  execution  of 
the  plan  which  he  had  formed,  but  disclosed  his  whole  scheme  to 

William  seems  to  have  been  alarmed  and  provoked  by  this  in- 
telligence to  a  degree  very  unusual  with  him.  In  general  he  was 
indulgent,  nay,  wilfully  blind,  to  the  baseness  of  the  English 
statesmen  whom  he  employed.  He  suspected,  indeed  he  knew, 
that  some  of  his  servants  were  in  correspondence  with  his  com- 
petitor ;  and  yet  he  did  not  punish  them,  did  not  disgrace  them, 
did  not  even  frown  on  them.  He  thought  meanly,  and  he  had 
but  too  good  reason  for  thinking  meanly,  of  the  whole  of  that 
breed  of  public  men  which  the  Restoration  had  formed  and  had 
bequeathed  to  the  Revolution.  He  knew  them  too  well  to  com- 
plain because  he  did  not  find  in  them  veracity,  fidelity,  consist- 
ency, disinterestedness.  The  very  utmost  that  he  expected  from 
them  was  that  they  would  serve  him  as  far  as  they  could  serve 
him  without  serious  danger  to  themselves.  If  he  learnt  d  that, 
while  sitting  in  his  council  and  enriched  by  his  bounty,  they 
were  trying  to  make  for  themselves  at  Saint  Germains  an  interest 
which  might  be  of  use  to  them  in  the  event  of  a  counterrevolu- 
tion, he  was  more  inclined  to  bestow  on  them  the  contemptuous 
commendation  which  was  bestowed  of  old  on  the  worldly  wisd -m 
of  the  unjust  steward  than  to  call  them  to  a  severe  account. 


But  the  crime  of  Marlborougli  was  of  a  very  different  kind. 
His  treason  was  not  that  of  a  fainthearted  man  desirous  to  keep 
a  retreat  open  for  himself  in  every  event,  but  that  of  a  man  of 
dauntless  courage,  profound  policy,  and  measureless  ambition. 
William  was  not  prone  to  fear;  but,  if  there  was  any  thing  on 
earth  that  he  feared,  it  was  Marlborough.  To  treat  the  criminal 
as  he  deserved  was  indeed  impossible  :  for  tho  .,  by  whom  his 
designs  had  been  made  known  to  the  government  would  never 
have  consented  to  appear  against  him  in  the  witness  box.  But 
to  permit  him  to  retain  high  command  in  that  army  which  he 
was  then  engaged  in  seducing  would  have  been  madness. 

Late  in  the  evening  of  the  ninth  of  January  the  Queen  had  a 
painful  explanation  with  the  Princess  Anne.  Early  the  next 
morning  Marlborough  was  informed  that  their  Majesties  had  no 
further  occasion  for  his  services,  and  that  he  must  not  presume 
to  appear  in  the  royal  presence.  lie  had  been  loaded  with 
honours,  and  with  what  he  loved  better,  riches.  All  was  at  once 
taken  away. 

.The  real  history  of  these  events  was  known  to  very  few. 
Evelyn,  who  had  in  general  excellent  sources  of  information, 
believed  that  the  corruption  and  extortion  of  which  Marlborough 
was  notoriously  guilty  had  roused  the  royal  indignation.  The 
Dutch  minister  could  only  tell  the  States  General  that  six  different 
stories  were  spread  abroad  by  Marlborough's  enemies.  Some 
said  that  he  had  indiscreetly  suffered  an  important  military  secret 
to  escape  him  ;  some  that  he  had  spoken  disrespectfully  of  their 
Majesties  ;  some  that  ho  had  done  ill  offices  between  the  Queen 
and  the  Princess  ;  some  that  he  had  been  forming  cabals  in  the 
arm}7  ;  some  that  he  had  carried  on  an  unauthorised  correspond- 
ence with  the  Danish  government  about  the  general  politics  of 
Europe  ;  and  some  that  he  had  been  trafficking  with  the  agents 
of  the  Court  of  Saint  Germains.*  His  friends  contradicted  every 
one  of  these  tales,  and  affirmed  that  his  only  crime  was  his  dislike 
of  the  foreigners  who  were  lording  it  over  his  countrymen,  and 
that  he  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  machinations  of  Portland, 

*  Evelyn's  Diary,  Jan.  24;  Hop  to  States  General,-^;-^1  1G01-2  ,  Baden  to 
States  General,  Feb.  1G-26. 


whom  he  was  known  to  dislike,  and  whom  he  had  not  very 
politely  described  as  a  wooden  fellow.  The  mystery,  which  from 
the  first  overhung  the  story  of  Marlborough's  disgrace,  was 
darkened,  after  the  lapse  of  fifty  years,  by  the  shameless  men- 
dacity of  his  widow.  The  concise  narrative  of  James  dispels 
that  mystery,  and  makes  it  clear,  not  only  why  Marlborough 
was  disgraced,  but  also  how  several  of  the  reports  about  the 
cause  of  his  disgrace  originated.* 

*  The  words  of  James  are  these  ;  they  were  written  in  November  1602  : — 

"  Mes  amis,  1'annee  passee,  avoient  dessein  do  me  rappeler  par  le  Parlement, 
La  maniere  etoit  concertee  ;  et  Milord  Churchill  devoit  proposer  dans  le  Paiie 
nient  de  chasser  tous  les  Strangers  tant  des  conseils  et  de  l'arm£e  que  du  roy- 
aume.  Si  le  Prince  d'Orange  avoit  consent!  a  cette  proposition,  ils  1'auroient  eu 
entre  leurs  mains.  S'il  1'avoit  ref  usee,  il  auroit  fait  declarer  le  Parlement  contra 
lui  ;  et  en  nieme  temps  Milord  Churchill  devoit  se  declarer  avec  1'armee  pour  le 
Parlement ;  et  la  flotte  devoit  faire  de  mSrne  ;  et  1'on  devoit  me  rappeler.  L'oii 
avoit  deja  commence  d'agir  dans  ce  projet ;  et  on  avoit  gagne  un  gros  parti,  quand 
quelques  fideles  sujets  indiscrets,  croyant  me  servir,  et  s'imaginant  que  se  que 
Milord  Churchill  faisoit  n'etoit  pas  pour  moi,  mais  pour  la  Princesse  de  Dane- 
marck,  eureut  1'iniprudeiice  de  decouvrir  le  tout  a  Benthing,  et  detournerent  ainsi 
le  coup." 

A  translation  of  this  most  remarkable  passage,  which  at  once  solves  many  in- 
teresting and  perplexing  problems,  was  published  eighty  years  ago  by  Macpher- 
son.  But,  strange  to  say,  it  attracted  no  notice,  and  has  never,  so  far  as  1  kifow, 
been  mentioned  by  any  biographer  of  Marlborough. 

The  narrative  of  James  requires  no  conlirmation  ;  but  it  is  strongly  confirmed 
by  the  Burnet  MS-  Harl.  6584.  "Marleburrough,"  Burnet  wrote  in  September 
1693,  "set  himself  to  decry  the  King's  conduct  and  to  lessen  him  in  all  his  dis- 
courses, and  to  possess  the  English  with  an  aversion  to  the  Dutch,  who,  as  he 
pretended,  had  a  much  larger  share  of  the  King's  favour  and  confidence  than 
they," — the  English  I  suppose, — "  had.  This  was  a  point  on  which  the  English, 
who  are  too  apt  to  despise  all  other  nations,  and  to  overvalue  themselves,  were 
easily  enough  inflamed.  So  it  grew  to  be  the  universal  subject  of  discourse,  and 
Avas  the  constant  entertainment  at  Marleburrough's,  where  there  was  a  constant 
randivous  of  the  English  officers."  About  the  dismission  of  Marlborough,  Burnet 
wrote  at  the  same  time  :  "  The  King  said  to  myself  upon  it  that  he  had  very  good 
reason  to  believe  that  he  had  made  his  peace  with  King  James,  and  was  engaged 
in  a  correspondence  with  France.  It  is  certain  he  was  doing  all  he  could  to  set 
on  a  faction  in  the  army  and  the  nation  against  the  Dutch." 

Itis  curious  to  compare  this  plain  tale,  told  while  the  facts  were  recent,  with 
the  shuffling  narrative  which  Burnet  prepared  for  the  public  eye  many  years 
later,  when  Marlborough  was  closely  united  to  the  Whigs,  and  was  rendering 
great  and  splendid  services  to  the  country.  Burnet,  ii.  CO. 

The  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  in  her  Vindication,  had  the  effrontery  to  declare 
that  she  "  could  never  learn  what  cause  the  King  assigned  for  his  displeasure.'* 
She  suggests  that  Young's  forgery  may  have  been  the  cause.  Now  she  must 
have  known  that  Young's  forgery  was  not  committed  till  some  months  after  her 
husband's  disgrace.  She  waa  indeed  lamentably  deficient  in  memory,  a  faculty 
which  is  proverbially  said  to  be  necessary  to  persons  of  the  class  to  which  she 
belonged.  Her  owu  volume  convicts  her  of  falsehoodi  She  gives  us  a  letter  from 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  257 

Though  William  assigned  to  the  public  no  reason  for  exer- 
cising his  undoubted  prerogative  by  dismissing  his  servant,  Anne 
had  been  informed  of.  the  truth  ;  and  it  had  been  left  to  her  to 
judge  whether  an  officer  who  had  been  guilty  of  a  foul  treason 
was  a  fit  inmate  of  the  palace.  Three  weeks  passed.  Lady 
Marlborough  still  regained  her  post  and  her  apartments  at 
Whitehall.  Her  husband  still  resided  with  her;  and  still  the 
King  and  Queen  gave  no  sign  of  displeasure.  At  length  the 
haughty  and  vindictive  Countess,  emboldened  by  their  patience, 
determined  to  brave  them  face  to  face,  and  accompanied  her  mis- 
tress one  evening  to  the  drawingroom  at  Kensington.  This  was 
too  much  even  for  the  gentle  Mary.  She  would  indeed  have  ex- 
pressed her  indignation  before  the  crowd  which  surrounded  the 
card  tables,  had  she  not  remembered  that  her  sister  was  in  a 
state  which  entitles  women  to  peculiar  indulgence.  Nothing  was 
said  that  night ;  but  on  the  following  day  a  letter  from  the  Queen 
was  delivered  to  the  Princess.  Mary  declared  that  she  was  un- 
willing to  give  pain  to  a  sister  whom  she  loved,  and  in  whom  she 
could  easily  pass  over  any  ordinary  fault :  but  this  was  a  serious 
matter.  Lady  Marlborough  must  be  dismissed.  While  she 
lived  at  Whitehall  her  Lord  would  live  there.  Was  it  proper 
that  a  man  in  his  situation  should  be  suffered  to  make  the  palace 
of  his  injured  master  his  home  ?  Yet  so  unwilling  was  his  Ma- 
jesty to  deal  severely  with  the  worst  offenders,  that  even  this  had 
been  borne,  and  might  have  been  borne  longer,  had  not  Anne 
brought  the  Countess  to  defy  the  King  and  Queen  in  their  own 
presence  chamber.  "  It  was  unkind,"  Mary  wrote, "  in  a  sister  : 
it  would  have  been  uncivil  in  an  equal ;  and  I  need  not  say  that 
I  have  more  to  claim."  The  Princess,  in  her  answer,  did  not 
attempt  to  exculpate  or  excuse  Marlborough,  but  expressed  a 
firm  conviction  that  his  wife  was  innocent,  and  implored  the 
Queen  not  to  insist  on  so  heartrending  a  separation.  "  There 

Mary  to  Anne,  in  which  Mary  says,  "  I  need  not  repeat  the  cause  my  Lord  Marl- 
borough  has  given  the  King  to  do  what  he  has  done."  These  words  plainly  imply 
that  Anne  had  been  apprised  of  the  cause-  If  she  had  not  been  apprised  of  the 
cause,  would  she  not  have  said  so  in  her  answer  ?  But  we  have  her  answer  :  and 
it  contains  not  a  word  on  the  subject.  She  was  then  apprised  of  the  cause ;  and 
is  it  possible  to  believe  that  she  kept  it  a  secret  from  her  adored  ilrs.  Free- 

VOL.  IV.— 17 


is  150    misery,"  Anne  wrote,  "  that  I  cannot  resolve   to  suffer 
rather  than  the  thoughts  of  parting  from  her." 

The  Princess  sent  for  her  uncle  Rochester,  and  implored  him 
to  carry  her  letter  to  Kensington  and  to  be  her  advocate  there. 
Rochester  declined  the  office  of  messenger,  and,  though  he  tried 
to  restore  harmony  between  his  kinswomen,  was  by  no  means 
disposed  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  Churchills.  He  had  indeed 
long  seen  with  extreme  uneasiness  the  absolute  dominion  exer- 
cised over  his  younger  niece  by  that  unprincipled  pair.  Anne's 
expostulation  was  sent  to  the  Queen  by  a  servant.  The  only 
reply  was  a  message  from  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  Dorset,  com- 
manding Lady  Marlborough  to  leave  the  palace.  Mrs.  Morley 
would  not  be  separated  from  Mrs.  Freeman.  As  to  Mr.  Mor- 
ley, all  places  where  he  could  have  his  three  courses  and  his 
three  bottles  were  alike  to  him.  The  Princess  and  her  whole 
family  therefore  retired  to  Sion  House,  a  villa  belonging  to  the 
Duke  of  Somerset,  and  situated  on  the  margin  of  the  Thames. 
In  London  she  occupied  Berkeley  House,  which  stood  in 
Piccadilly,  on  the  site  now  covered  by  Devonshire  House.* 
Her  income  was  secured  by  Act  of  Parliament :  but  no  punish- 
ment which  it  was  in  the  power  of  the  Crown  to  inflict  on  her 
was  spared.  Her  guard  of  honour  was  taken  away.  The  for- 
eign ministers  ceased  to  wait  upon  her.  When  she  went  to  Bath, 
the  Secretary  of  State  wrote  to  request  the  Mayor  of  that  city 
pot  to  receive  her  with  the  ceremonial  with  which  royal  vis- 
itors were  usually  welcomed.  When  she  attended  divine  service 
at  Saint  James's  Church,  she  found  that  the  rector  had  been  for- 
bidden to  show  her  the  customary  marks  of  respect,  to  bow  to 
her  from  his  pulpit,  and  to  send  a  copy  of  his  text  to  be  laid  on 
her  cushion.  Even  the  bellman  of  Piccadilly,  it  was  said,  per- 
haps falsely,  was  ordered  not  to  chant  her  praises  in  his  doggrel 
verse  under  the  windows  of  Berkeley  House.f 

*  My  account  of  these  transactions  T  have  been  forced  to  take  from  the  narra- 
tive of  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  a  narrative  which  is  to  be  read  with  constant 
suspicion,  except  when,  as  is  often  the  case,  she  relates  some  instance  of  her  own 
malignity  and  insolence. 

t  The  Duchess  of  Marlborough's  Vindication  ;  Dartmouth's  Note  on  Burnet, 
ii.  92  ;  Verses  of  the  Night  Bellman  of  Piccadilly  and  my  Lord  Nottingham's 
Order  thereupon,  1691.  There  is  a  bitter  lampoon  on  Lady  Marlborough  of  the 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  2-39 

That  Anne  was  in  the  wrong  is  clear  ;  but  it  is  not  equally 
clear  that  the  King  and  Queen  were  in  the  right.  They  should 
have  either  dissembled  their  displeasure,  or  openly  declared  the 
true  reasons  for  it.  Unfortunately,  they  let  everybody  see  the 
punishment,  and  they  let  scarcely  any  body  know  the  provoca- 
tion. They  should  have  remembered  that,  in  the  absence  of 
information  about  the  cause  of  a  quarrel,  the  public  is  naturally 
inclined  to  side  with  the  weaker  party,  and  that  this  inclination 
is  likely  to  be  peculiarly  strong  when  a  sister  is,  without  any 
apparent  reason,  harshly  treated  by  a  sister.  They  should  have 
remembered,  too,  that  they  were  exposing  to  attack  what  was 
unfortunately  the  one  vulnerable  part  of  Mary's  character.  A 
cruel  fate  had  put  enmity  between  her  and  her  father.  Her 
detractors  pronounced  her  utterly  destitute  of  natural  affection  ; 
and  even  her  eulogists,  when  they  spoke  of  the  way  in  which 
she  had  discharged  the  duties  of  the  filial  relation,  were  forced 
to  speak  in  a  subdued  and  apologetic  tone.  Nothing  therefore 
could  be  more  unfortunate  than  that  she  should  a  second  time 
appear  unmindful  of  the  ties  of  consanguinity.  She  was  now 
at  open  war  with  both  the  two  persons  who  were  nearest  to  her 
in  blood.  Many,  who  thought  that  her  conduct  towards  her 
parent  was  justified  by  the  extreme  danger  which  had  .threatened 
her  country  and  her  religion,  were  unable  to  defend  her  conduct 
towards  her  sister.  "While  Mary,  who  was  really  guilty  in  this 
matter  of  nothing  worse  than  imprudence,  was  regarded  by  the 
-world  as  an  oppressor,  Anne,  who  was  as  culpable  as  her  small 
faculties  enabled  her  to  be,  assumed  the  interesting  character  of 
a  meek,  resigned,  sufferer.  In  those  private  letters,  indeed,  to 
wliich  the  name  of  Morley  was  subscribed,  the  Princess  expressed 
the  sentiments  of  a  fury  in  the  style  of  a  fishwoman,  railed 
savagely  at  the  whole  Dutch  nation,  and  called  her  brother  in 
law  sometimes  the  abortion,  sometimes  the  monster,  sometimes 
Caliban.*  But  the  nation  heard  nothing  of  her  language  and 

same  date,  entitled  the  Universal  Health,  a  true  Union  to  the  Queen  and  Prin- 

*  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Anne  was  a  reader  of  Shakespeare.  She  had, 
no  doubt,  often  seen  the  Enchanted  Island.  That  miserable  rifaclmento  of  the 
Tempest  was  then  a  favourite  with  the  town,  ou  account  of  the  machinery  ant) 
the  decorations 


saw  nothing  of  her  deportment  but  what  was  decorous  and  sub- 
missive. The  truth  seems  to  have  been  that  the  rancorous  and 
coarseminded  Countess  gave  the  tone  to  her  Ilighness's  confi- 
dential correspondence,  while  the  graceful,  serene,  and  politic 
Earl  was  suffered  to  prescribe  the  course  which  was  to  be  taken 
before  the  public  eye.  During  a  short  time  the  Queen  was 
generally  blamed.  But  the  charm  of  her  temper  and  manners 
was  irresistible  ;  and  in  a  few  months  she  regained  the  popularity 
which  she  had  lost.* 

It  was  a  most  fortunate  circumstance  for  Marlborough  that 
just  at  the  very  time  when  all  London  was  talking  about  his 
disgrace,  and  trying  to  guess  at  the  cause  of  the  King's  sudden 
anger  against  one  who  had  always  seemed  to  be  a  favourite,  an 
accusation  of  treason  was  brought  by  William  Fuller  against 
many  persons  of  high  consideration,  was  strictly  investigated, 
and  was  proved  to  be  false  and  malicious.  The  consequence 
was  that  the  public,  which  rarely  discriminates  nicely,  could  not, 
at  that  moment,  be  easily  brought  to  believe  ia  the  reality  of 
any  Jacobite  conspiracy. 

That  Fuller's  plot  is  less  celebrated  than  the  Popish  plot  is 
the  fault  rather  of  the  historians  than  of  Fuller,  who  did  all 
that  man  could  do  to  secure  an  eminent  place  among  villains. 
Every  person  well  read  in  history  must  have  observed  that  de- 
pravity has  its  temporary  modes,  which  come  in  and  go  out 
like  modes  of  dress  and  upholstery.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether,  in  our  country,  any  man  ever,  before  the  year  1678, 
invented  and  related  on  oath  a  circumstantial  history,  altogether 
fictitious,  of  a  treasonable  plot,  for  the  purpose  of  making  him- 
self important  by  destroying  men  who  had  given  him  no  provo- 
cation. But  in  the  year  1678  this  execrable  crirrfe  became  the 
fashion,  and  continued  to  be  so  during  the  twenty  years  which 
followed.  Preachers  designated  it  as  our  peculiar  national  sin, 
and  prophesied  that  it  would  draw  on  us  some  awful  national 
judgment.  Legislators  proposed  new  punishments  of  terrible 
severity  for  this  new  atrocity. f  It  was  not  however  found 

*  Burnet  MS.  Harl.  C584. 

t  The  history  of  an  abortive  attempt  to  legislate  011  this  subject  will  be  found 
In  the  Commons'  Journals  of  1692-3. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  261 

necessary  to  resort  to  those  punishments.  The  fashion  changed ; 
and  during  the  last  century  and  a  half  there  has  perhaps  not 
been  a  single  instance  of  this  particular  kind  of  wickedness. 

The  explanation  is  simple.  Gates  was  the  founder  of  a 
school.  His  success  proved  that  no  romance  is  too  wild  to  be 
received  with  faith  by  understandings  which  fear  and  hatred 
have  disordered.  His  slanders  were  monstrous  ;  but  they  were 
well  timed ;  he  spoke  to  a  people  made  credulous  by  their  pas- 
sions ;  and^thus,  by  impudent  and  cruel  lying,  he  raised  himself 
in  a  week  from  beggary  and  obscurity  to  luxury,  renown,  and 
power.  He  had  once  eked  out  the  small  tithes  of  a  miserable 
vicarage  by  stealing  the  pigs  and  fowls  of  his  parishioners.* 
He  was  now  lodged  in  a  palace :  he  was  followed  by  admiring 
crowds  ;  he  had  at  his  mercy  the  estates  and  lives  of  Howards  and 
Herberts.  A  crowd  of  imitators  instantly  appeared.  It  seemed 
that  much  more  might  be  got,  and  that  much  less  was  risked,  by 
testifying  to  an  imaginary  conspiracy  than  by  robbing  on  the 
highway  or  clipping  the  coin.  Accordingly  the  Bedloes,  Danger- 
fields,  Dugdales,  Turberviles,  made  haste  to  transfer  their  in- 
dustry to  an  employment  at  once  more  profitable  and  less  peril- 
ous than  any  to  which  they  were  accustomed.  Till  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  Oxford  Parliament,  Popish  plots  were  the  chief  man- 
ufacture. Then,  during  seven  years,  Whig  plots  were  the  only  plots 
which  paid.  Aft'er  the  Revolution,  Jacobite  plots  came  in ; 
but  the  public  had  become  cautious ;  and,  though  the  new  false 
witnesses  were  in  no  respect  less  artful  than  their  predecessors, 
they  found  much  less  encouragement.  The  history  of  the  first 
great  check  given  to  the  practices  of  this  abandoned  race  of  men 
well  deserves  to  be  circumstantially  related. 

In  1689,  and  in  the  beginning  of  1690,  "William  Fuller  had 
rendered  to  the  government  service  such  as  the  best  governments 
sometimes  require,  and  such  as  none  but  the  worst  men  ever 
perform.  His  useful  treachery  had  been  rewarded  by  his  em- 
ployers, as  was  meet,  with  money  and  with  contempt.  Their 
liberality  enabled  him  to  live  during,  some  months  like  a  fine 
gentleman.  He  called  himself  a  Colonel,  hired  servants,  clothed 

*  North's  Examen. 


them  in  gorgeous  liveries,  bought  fine  horses,  lodged  in  Pall 
Mall,  and  showed  his  brazen  forehead,  overtopped  by  a  wig 
worth  fifty  guineas,  in  the  antechambers  of  the  palace  and  in 
the  stage  box  at  the  theatre.  He  even  gave  himself  the  airs 
of  a  favourite  of  royalty,  and,  as  if  he  thought  that  William 
could  not  live  'without  him,  followed  His  Majesty  first  to  Ire- 
laud,  and  then  to  the  Congress  of  Princes  at  the  Hague.  The 
vagabond  afterwards  boasted  that,  at  the  Hague,  he  appeared 
with  a  retinue  fit  for  an  ambassador,  that  he  gave  ten  guineas  a 
week  for  an  apartment,  and  that  the  worst  waistcoat  which  he 
condescended  to  wear  was  of  silver  stuff  at  forty  shillings  the 
yard.  Such  profusion  of  course  brought  him  to  poverty.  Soon 
after  his  return  to  England  he  took  refuge  from  the  bailiffs  in 
Axe  Yard,  a  place  lying  within  the  verge  of  Whitehall.  His 
fortunes  were  desperate :  he  owed  great  sums :  on  the  govern- 
ment he  had  no  claim  :  his  past  services  had  been  overpaid : 
no  future  service  was  to  be  expected  from  him :  having  ap- 
peared in  the  witness  box  as  evidence  for  the  Crown,  he  could 
no  longer  be  of  any  use  as  a  spy  on  the  Jacobites ;  and  by 
all  men  of  virtue  and  honour,  to  whatever  party  they  might 
belong,  he  was  abhorred  and  shunned. 

Just  at  this  time,  when  he  was  in  the  frame  of  mind  in  which 
men  are  open  to  the  worst  temptations,  he  fell  in  with  the  worst 
of  tempters,  in  truth  with  the  Devil  in  human  shape.  Gates 
had  obtained  his  liberty,  his  pardon,  and  a  pension  which  made 
him  a  much  richer  man  than  nineteen  twentieths  of  the  members 
of  that  profession  of  which  he  was  the  disgrace.  But  he  was 
still  unsatisfied.  He  complained  that  he  had  now  less  than 
three  hundred  a  year.  In  the  golden  days  of  the  Plot  he  had 
been  allowed  three  times  as  much,  had  been  sumptuously  lodged 
in  the  palace,  had  dined  on  plate,  and  had  been  clothed  in  silk. 
He  clamoured  for  an  increase  of  his  stipend.  Nay,  he  was  even 
impudent  enough  to  aspire  to  ecclesiastical  preferment,  and 
thought  it  hard  that,  while  so  many  mitres  were  distributed,  he 
-could  not  get  a  deanery,  a  prebend,  or  even  a  rectory.  He  miss- 
ed no  opportunity  of  urging  his  pretensions.  He  haunted  the 
public  offices  and  the  lobbies  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament.  He 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  263 

might  be  seen  and  heard  every  day,  hurrying  as  fast  as  his  uneven 
legs  would  carry  him,  between  Charing  Cross  and  Westminster 
Hull,  puffing  with  haste  and  self  importance,  chattering  about 
what  he  had  done  for  the  good  cause,  and  reviling,  in  the  style 
of  the  boatmen  on  the  river,  all  the  statesmen  and  divines  whom 
he  suspected  of  doing  him  ill  offices  at  Court,  and  keeping  him 
back  from  a  bishopric.  When  he  found  that  there  was  no  hope 
for  him  in  the  Established  Church,  he  turned  to  the  Baptists. 
They,  at  first,  received  him  very  coldly  ;  but  he  gave  such  touch- 
ing accounts  of  the  wonderful  work  of  grace  which  had  been 
wrought  in  his  soul,  and  vowed  so  solemnly,  before  Jehovah  and 
the  holy  angels,  to  be  thenceforth  a  burning  and  shining  light, 
that  it  was  difficult  for  simple  and  well  meaning  people  to  think 
him  altogether  insincere.  He  mourned,  he  said,  like  a  turtle. 
On  one  Lord's  day  he  thought  he  should  have  died  of  grief  at 
being  shut  out  from  fellowship  with  the  saints.  He  was  at 
length  admitted  to  communion  :  but,  before  he  had  been  a  year 
among  his  new  friends,  they  discovered  his  true  character,  and 
solemnly  cast  him  out  as  a  hypocrite.  Thenceforth  he  became 
the  mortal  enemy  of  the  leading  Baptists,  and  persecuted  them 
with  the  same  treachery,  the  same  mendacity,  the  same  effront- 
ery, the  same  black  malice,  which  had,  many  years  before, 
wrought  the  destruction  of  more  celebrated  victims.  Those  who 
had  lately  been  edified  by  his  account  of  his  blessed  experiences 
stood  aghast  to  hear  him  crying  out  that  he  would  be  revenged, 
that  revenge  was  God's  own  sweet  morsel,  that  the  wretches 
who  had  excommunicated  him  should  be  ruined,  that  they  should 
be  forced  to  fly  their  country,  that  they  should  be  stripped  to 
the  last  shilling.  His  designs  were  at  length  frustrated  by 
a  righteous  decree  of  the  Court  of  Chancery,  a  decree  which 
would  have  left  a  deep  stain  on  the  character  of  an  ordinary  man, 
but  which  makes  no  perceptible  addition,  to  the  infamy  of  Titus 
Gates.*  Through  all  changes,  however,  he  was  surrounded  by 
a  small  knot  of  hotheaded  and  foulmouthed  agitators,  who, 
abhorred  and  despised  by  every  respectable  Whig,  yet  called 

*  North's  Examen  ;  Ward's  London  Spy;  Crosby's  English  Baptists,  vol.  iii. 
chap.  2. 


themselves  "Whigs,  and  thought  themselves  injured  because  they 
were  not  rewarded  for  scurrility  i^id  slander  with  the  best  places 
under  the  Crown. 

In  1691,  Titus,  in  order  to  be  near  the  focal  point  of  politi- 
cal intrigue  and  faction,  had  taken  a  house  within  the  precinct 
of  Whitehall.  To  this  house  Fuller,  who  lived  hard  by,  found 
admission.  The  evil  work,  which  had  been  begun  in  him,  when 
he  was  still  a  child,  by  the  memoirs  of  Dangerfield,  was  now 
completed  by  the  conversation  of  Gates.  The  Salamanca  Doc- 
tor was,  as  a  witness,  no  longer  formidable  ;  but  he  was  im- 
pelled, partly  by  the  savage  malignity  which  he  felt  towards  all 
whom  he  considered  as  his  enemies,  and  partly  by  mere  mon- 
keylike  restlessness  and  love  of  mischief,  to  do,  through  the  in- 
strumentality of  others,  what  he  could  no  longer  do  in  person. 
In  Fuller  he  had  found  the  corrupt  heart,  the  ready  tongue,  and 
the  unabashed  front,  which  are  the  first  qualifications  for  the 
office  of  a  false  accuser.  A  friendship,  if  that  word  may  be  so 
used,  sprang  up  between  the  pair.  Gates  opened  his  house  and 
even  his  purse  to  Fuller.  The  veteran  sinner,  both  directly  and 
through  the  agency  of  his  dependents,  intimated  to  the  novice 
that  nothing  made  a  man  so  important  as  the  discovering  of  a 
plot,  and  that  these  were  times  when  a  young  fellow  who  would 
stick  at  nothing  and  fear  nobody  might  do  wonders.  The  Revolu- 
tion,— such  was  the  language  constantly  held  by  Titus  and  his  par- 
asites,— had  produced  little  good.  The  brisk  boys  of  Shaltes- 
bury  had  not  been  recompensed  according  to  their  merits.  Even 
the  Doctor, — such  was  the  ingratitude  of  men, — was  looked  on 
coldly  at  the  new  Court.  Tory  rogues  sate  at  the  council  board, 
and  were  admitted  to  the  royal  closet.  It  would  be  a  noble  feat 
to  bring  their  necks  to  the  block.  Above  all  it  would  be  delight- 
ful to  see  Nottingham's  long  solemn  face  on  Tower  Hill.  For 
the  hatred  with  which  these  bad  men  regarded  Nottingham  had 
no  bounds,  and  was  probably  excited  less  by  his  political  opinions, 
in  which  there  was  doubtless  much  to  condemn,  than  by  his 
moral  character,  in  which  the  closest  scrutiny  will  detect  little 
that  is  not  deserving  of  approbation.  Gates,  with  the  authority 
which  experience  aud  success  entitle  a  preceptor  to  assume,  read 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  265 

his  pupil  a  lecture  on  the  art  of  bearing  false  witness.  "  You 
ought,"  he  said,  with  many  oaths  and  curses,  "  to  have  made 
more,  much  more,  out  of  what  you  heard  and  saw  at  Saint 
Germains.  Never  was  there  a  finer  foundation  for  a  plot.  But 
you  are  a  fool  :  you  are  a  coxcomb  :  I  could  beat  you  :  I  would 
not  have  done  so.  I  used  to  go  to  Charles  and  tell  him  his  own. 
I  called  Lauderdale  names  to  his  face.  I  made  King,  Ministers, 
Lords  Commons,  afraid  of  me.  But  you  young  men  have  no 
spirit."  Fuller  was  greatly  edified  by  these  exhortations.  It 
was,  however,  hint^J.  to  him  by  some  of  his  associates  that,  if  he 
meant  to  take  up  the  trade  of  swearing  away  lives,  he  would 
do  well  not  to  show  himself  so  often  at  coffeehouses  in  the  com- 
pany of  Titus.  "  The  Doctor,"  said  one  of  the  gang,  "  is  an 
excellent  person,  and  has  done  great  things  in  his  time  :  but 
many  people  are  prejudiced  against  him  ;  and,  if  you  are  really 
going  to  discover  a  plot,  the  less  you  are  seen  with  him  the 
better."  Fuller  accordingly  ceased  to  appear  in  Oates's  train 
at  public  places,  but  still  continued  to  receive  his  great  master's 
instructions  in  private. 

To  do  Fuller  justice,  he  seems  not  to  have  taken  up  the 
trade  of  a  false  witness  till  he  could  no  longer  support  himself 
by  begging  or  swindling.  He  lived  for  a  time  on  the  charity 
of  the  Queen.  He  then  levied  contributions  by  pretending  to 
be  one  of  the  noble  family  of  Sidney.  He  wheedled  Tillotson 
out  of  some  money,  and  requited  the  good  Archbishop's  kind- 
ness by  passing  himself  off  as  His  Grace's  favourite  nephew. 
But  in  the  autumn  of  1691  all  these  shifts  were  exhausted. 
After  lying  in  several  spunging  houses,  Fuller  was  at  length 
lodged  in  the  King's  Bench  prison,  and  he  now  thought  it  time 
to  announce  that  he  had  discovered  a  plot.* 

He  addressed  himself  first  to  Tilloston  and  Portland :  but 
both  Tillotson  and  Portland  soon  perceived  that  he  was  lying. 
What  he  said  was,  however,  reported  to  the  King,  who,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  treated  the  information  and  the  informer 
with  cold  contempt.  All  that  remained  was  to  try  whether  a 
flame  could  be  raised  in  the  Parliament. 
*  The  history  of  this  part  of  Fuller's  life  I  have  taken  from  his  own  narrative. 


Soon  after  the  Houses  met,  Fuller  petitioned  the  Commons 
to  hear  what  he  had  to  say,  and  promised  to  make  wonderful 
disclosures.  He  was  brought  from  his  prison  to  the  bar  of  the 
House  ;  and  he  there  repeated  a  long  romance.  James,  he  said, 
had  delegated  the  regal  authority  to  six  commissioners,  of  whom 
Halifax  was  first.  More  than  fifty  lords  and  gentlemen  had 
signed  an  address  to  the  French  King,  imploring  him  to  make 
a  great  effort  for  the  restoration  of  the  House  of  Stuart.  Fuller 
declared  that  he  had  seen  this  address,  and  recounted  many  of 
the  names  appended  to  it.  Some  members  made  severe  remarks 
on  the  improbability  of  the  story  and  on  the  character  of  the 
witness.  He  is,  it  was  said,  one  of  the  greatest  rogues  on  the 
face  of  the  earth ;  and  he  tells  such  things  as  could  scarcely  be 
credited  if  they  were  told  by  an  angel  from  heaven.  Fuller 
audaciously  pledged  himself  to  bring  proofs  which  would  satisfy 
the  most  incredulous.  He  was,  he  averred,  in  communication 
with  some  agents  of  James.  Those  persons  were  ready  to  make 
reparation  to  their  country.  Their  testimony  would  be  decis- 
ive ;  for  they  were  in  possession  of  documentary  evidence  which 
would  confound  the  guilty.  They  held  back  only  because  they 
saw  some  of  the  traitors  high  in  office  and  near  the  royal  person, 
and  were  afraid  of  incurring  the  enmity  of  men  so  powerful  and 
so  wicked.  Fuller  ended  by  asking  for  a  sum  of  money,  and  by 
assuring  the  Commons  that  he  would  lay  it  out  to  good  account.* 
Had  his  impudent  request  been  granted,  he  would  probably  have 
paid  his  debts,  obtained  his  liberty,  and  absconded  :  but  the 
House  very  wisely  insisted  on  seeing  his  witnesses  first.  He 
then  began  to  shuffle.  The  gentlemen  were  on  the  Continent, 
and  could  not  come  over  without  passports.  Passports  were 
delivered  to  him  :  but  he  complained  that  they  were  insufficient. 
At  length  the  Commons,  fully  determined  to  get  at  the  truth, 
presented  an  address  requesting  the  King  to  send  Fuller  a  blank 
safe  conduct  in  the  largest  terms.f  The  safe  conduct  was 
sent.  Six  weeks  passed,  and  nothing  was  heard  of  the 
witnesses.  The  friends  of  the  lords  and  gentlemen  who  had 

*  Commons'  Journals,  Dec.  2,  and  9, 1G91 ;  Grey's  Debates. 
t  Commons'  Journals,  Jan.  4, 1691-2;  Grey's  Debates. 


been  accused  represented  strongly  that  the  House  ought  not 
to  separate  for  the  summer  without  coming  to  some  decision, 
on  charges  so  grave.  Fuller  was  ordered  to  attend.  He  plead- 
ed sickness,  and  asserted,  not  for  the  first  time,  that  the  Jacob- 
ites had  poisoned  him.  But  all  his  plans  were  confounded  by 
the  laudable  promptitude  and  vigour  with  which  the  Commons 
acted.  A  Committee  was  sent  to  his  bedside,  with  orders  to 
ascertain  whether  he  really  had  any  witnesses,  and  where  those 
witnesses  resided.  The  members  who  were  deputed  for  this 
purpose  went  to  the  King's  Bench  prison,  and  found  him  suf- 
fering under  a  disorder,  produced,  in  all  probability,  by  some 
emetic  which  he  had  swallowed  for  the  purpose  of  deceiving 
them.  In  answer  to  their  questions,  he  said  that  two  of  his 
witnesses,  Delaval  and  Hayes,  were  in  England,  and  were 
lodged  at  the  house  of  a  Roman  Catholic  apothecary  in  Hoi- 
born.  The  Commons,  as  soon  as  the  Committee  had  reported, 
sent  some  members  to  the  house  which  he  had  indicated.  That 
house  and  all  the  neighbouring  houses  were  searched.  Delaval 
and  Hayes  were  not  to  be  found ;  nor  had  anybody  in  the  vicin- 
ity ever  seen  such  men  or  heard  of  them.  The  House  there- 
fore on  the  last  day  of  the  session,  just  before  Black  Rod 
knocked  at  the  door,  unanimously  resolved  that  William  Fuller 
was  a  cheat  and  a  false  accuser  ;  that  he  had  insulted  the  gov- 
ernment and  the  Parliament ;  that  he  had  calumniated  honour- 
able men  ;  and  that  an  address  should  be  carried  up  to  the  throne, 
requesting  that  he  might  be  prosecuted  for  his  villany.*  He 
was  consequently  tried,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to  fine,  im- 
prisonment, and  the  pillory.  The  exposure,  more  terrible  than 
death  to  a  mind  not  lost  to  all  sense  of  shame,  he  underwent 
with  a  hardihood  worthy  of  his  two  favourite  models,  Dan. 
gerfield  and  Gates.  He  had  the  impudence  to  persist,  year 
after  year,  in  affirming  that  he  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  mach 
inations  of  the  late  King,  who  had  spent  six  thousand  pounds 
in  order  to  ruin  him.  Delaval  and  Hayes — so  this  fable  ran — 
had  been  instructed  by  James  in  person.  They  had,  in  obedi- 
ence to  his  orders,  induced  Fuller  to  pledge  his  word  for  their 
»  Commons'  Journals,  Feb.  22, 23,  and  24, 1691-2. 


appearance,  and  had  then  absented  themselves  and  left  him 
exposed  to  the  resentment  of  the  House  of  Commons.*  The 
story  had  the  reception  which  it  deserved  ;  and  Fuller  sank 
into  an  obscurity  from  which  he  twice  or  thrice,  at  long  in- 
tervals, again  emerged  for  a  moment  into  infamy. 

On  the  twenty -fourth  of  February  1692,  about  an  hour 
after  the  Commons  had  voted  Fuller  an  im poster,  they  were 
summoned  to  the  chamber  of  the  Lords.  The  King  thanked 
the  Houses  for  their  loyalty  and  liberality,  informed  them  that 
he  must  soon  set  out  for  the  Continent,  and  commanded  them 
to  adjourn  themselves.  He  gave  his  assent  on  that  day  to 
many  bills,  public  and  private  ;  but  when  the  title  of  one  bill, 
which  had  passed  the  Lower  House  without  a  single  division 
and  the  Upper  House  without  a  single  protest,  had  been  read 
by  the  Clerk  of  the  Crown,  the  Clerk  of  the  Parliaments 
answered,  according  to  the  ancient  form,  that  the  King  and  the 
Queen  would  consider  of  the  matter.  Those  words  had  very 
rarely  been  pronounced  before  the  accession  of  William.  They 
have  been  pronounced  only  once  since  his  death.  But  by  him  the 
power  of  putting  a  Veto  on  laws  which  had  been  passed  by  the 
Estates  of  the  Realm  was  used  on  several  important  occasions. 
His  detractors  truly  asserted  that  he  rejected  a  greater  number 
of  important  bills  than  all  the  Kings  of  the  House  of  Stuart  put 
together,  and  most  absurdly  inferred  that  the  sense  of  the  Es- 
tates of  the  realm  was  much  less  respected  by  him  than  by  his 
uncles  and  his  grandfather.  A  judicious  student  of  history  will 
have  no  difficulty  in  discovering  why  William  repeatedly  exer- 
cised a  prerogative  to  which  his  predecessors  very  seldom  had 
recourse,  and  which  his  successors  have  suffered  to  fall  into 
utter  desuetude. 

His  predecessors  passed  laws  easily  because  they  broke 
laws  easily.  Charles  the  First  gave  his  assent  to  the  Petition 
of  Right,  and  immediately  violated  every  clause  of  that  great 
statute.  Charles  the  Second  gave  his  assent  to  an  Act  which 
provided  that  a  Parliament  should  be  held  at  least  once  in  three 

*  Fuller's  Original  Letters  of  the  late  King  James  and  others  to  his  Greatest 
Friends  in  England. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  269 

years :  but  when  he  died  the  country  had  been  near  four  years 
without  a  Parliament.  The  laws  which  abolished  the  Court  of 
High  Commission,  the  laws  which  instituted  the  Sacramental 
Test,  were  passed  without  the  smallest  difficulty  :  but  they  did 
not  prevent  James  the  Second  from  reestablishing  the  Court  of 
High  Commission,  and  from  filling  the  Privy  Council,  the  public 
offices,  the  courts  of  justice,  and  the  municipal  corporations 
with  persons  who  had  never  taken  the  Test.  Nothing  could 
be  more  natural  than  that  a  King  should  not  think  it  worth 
while  to  refuse  his  assent  to  a  statute  with  which  he  could 
dispense  whenever  he  thought  fit. 

The  situation  of  William  was  very  different.  He  could 
not,  like  those  who  had  ruled  before  him,  pass  an  Act  in  the 
spring  and  violate  it  in  the  summer.  He  had,  by  assenting  to 
the  Bill  of  Rights,  solemnly  renounced  the  dispensing  power ; 
and  he  was  restrained,  by  prudence  as  well  as  by  conscience  and 
honour,  from  breaking  the  compact  under  which  he  held  his 
crown.  A  law  might  be  personally,  offensive  to  him  :  Jt  might 
appear  to  him  to  be  pernicious  to  his  people  :  but,  as  soon  as  he 
had  passed  it,  it  was,  in  his  eyes,  a  sacred  thing.  He  had  there- 
fore a  motive,  which  preceding  Kings  had  not,  for  pausing 
before  he  passed  such  a  law.  They  gave  their  word  readily, 
because  they  had  no  scruple  about  breaking  it.  He  gave  his 
word  slowly,  because  he  never  failed  to  keep  it. 

But  his  situation,  though  it  differed  widely  from  that  of  the 
princes  of  the  House  of  Stuart,  was  not  precisely  that  of  the 
princes  of  the  House  of  Brunswick.  A  prince  of  the  House  of 
Brunswick  is  guided,  as  to  the  use  of  every  royal  prerogative, 
by  the  advice  of  a  responsible  ministry  ;  and  this  ministry  must 
be  taken  from  the  party  which  predominates  in  the  two  Houses, 
or,  at  least,  in  the  Lower  House.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  con- 
ceive circumstances  in  which  a  Sovereign  so  situated  can  refuse 


to  assent  to  a  bill  which  has  been  approved  by  both  branches  of 
the  legislature.  Such  a  refusal  would  necessarily  imply  one  of 
two  things,  that  the  Sovereign  acted  in  opposition  to  the  advice  of 
the  ministry,  or  that  the  ministry  was  at  issue,  on  a  question  of 
vital  importance,  with  a  majority  both  of  the  Commons  and  of 


the  Lords.  On  either  supposition  the  country  would  be  in  a 
most  critical  state,  in  a  state  which,  if  long  continued,  must  end 
in  a  revolution.  But  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  reign  of  William 
there  was  no  ministry.  The  heads  of  the  executive  departments 
had  not  been  appointed  exclusively  from  either  party.  Some 
were  zealous  Whigs,  others  zealous  Tories.  The  most  enlight- 
ened statesmen  did  not  hold  it  to  be  unconstitutional  that  the 
King  should  exercise  his  highest  prerogatives  on  the  most  im- 
portant occasions  without  any  other  guidance  than  that  of  his 
own  judgment.  His  refusal,  therefore,  to  assent  to  a  bill 
which  had  passed  both  Houses  indicated,  not,  as  a  similar  refusal 
would  now  indicate,  that  the  whole  machinery  of  government 
was  in  a  state  of  fearful  disorder,  but  merely  that  there  was  a 
difference  of  opinion  between  him  and  the  two  other  branches 
of  the  legislature  as  to  the  expediency  of  a  particular  law.  Such 
a  difference  of  opinion  might  exist,  and,  as  we  shall  hereafter 
see,  actually  did  exist,  at  a  time  when  he  was,  not  merely  on 
friendly,  but  on  most  affectionate  terms  with  the  Estates  of  the 

The  circumstances  under  which  he  used  his  Veto  for  the 
first  time  have  never  yet  been  correctly  stated.  A  well  meant 
but  unskilful  attempt  had  been  made  to  complete  a  reform 
which  the  Bill  of  Rights  had  left  imperfect.  That  great  law 
had  deprived  the  Crown  of  the  power  of  arbitrarily  removing 
the  Judges,  but  had  not  made  them  entirely  independent.  They 
were  remunerated  partly  by  fees  and  partly  by  salaries.  Over 
the  fees  the  King  had  no  control :  but  the  salaries  he  had  full 
power  to  reduce  or  to  withhold.  That  William  had  ever  abused 
this  power  was  not  pretended :  but  it  was  undoubtedly  a  power 
which  no  prince  ought  to  possess  ;  and  this  was  the  sense  of 
both  Houses.  A  bill  was  therefore  brought  in  by  which  a  sal- 
ary of  a  thousand  a  year  was  strictly  secured  to  each  of  the 
twelve  Judges.  Thus  far  all  was  well.  But  unfortunately  the 
salaries  were  made  a  charge  on  the  hereditary  revenue.  No 
such  proposition  would  now  be  entertained  by  the  House  of 
Commons,  without  the  royal  consent  previously  signified  by  a 
Privy  Councillor.  But  this  wholesome  rule  had  not  then  been 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  271 

established ;  and  William  could  defend  the  proprietary  rights  of 
the  Crown  only  by  putting  his  negative  on  the  bill.  At  the 
time  there  was,  as  far  as  can  now  be  ascertained,  no  outcry. 
Even  the  Jacobite  libellers  were  almost  silent.  It  was  not  till 
the  provisions  of  the  bill  had  been  forgotten,  and  till  nothing 
but  its  title  was  remembered,  that  William  was  accused  of  hav- 
ing been  influenced  by  a  wish  to  keep  the  judges  in  a  state  of 

The  Houses  broke  up  ;  and  the  King  prepared  to  set  out  for 
the  Continent.  Before  his  departure  he  made  some  changes 
in  his  household  and  in  several  departments  of  the  government, 
changes,  however,  which  did  not  indicate  a  very  decided  pref- 
erence for  either  of  the  great  political  parties.  Rochester 
was  sworn  of  the  Council.  It  is  probable  that  he  had  earned 
this  mark  of  royal  favour  by  taking  the  Queen's  side  in  the  un- 
happy dispute  between  her  and  her  sister.  Pembroke  took 
charge  of  the  Privy  Seal,  and  was  succeeded  at  the  Board  of 
Admiralty  by  Charles  Lord  Cornwallis,  a  moderate  Tory  :  Low- 
ther  accepted  a  seat  at  the  same  board,  and  was  succeeded  at 

*  Bumet  (ii.  86).  Burnet  had  evidently  forgotten  what  the  bill  contained. 
Ralph  knew  nothing  about  it  but  what  he  had  learned  from  Burnet.  I  have 
scarcely  seen  any  allusion  to  the  subject  in  any  of  the  numerous  Jacobite  lam- 
poons of  that  day.  But  there  is  a  remarkable  passage  in  a  pamphlet  which  ap- 
peared towards  the  close  of  William's  reign,  and  which  is  entitled  the  Art  of 
Governing  by  Parties.  The  writer  says,  "  We  still  want  an  Act  to  ascertain  some 
fund  for  the  salaries  of  the  judges  ;  and  there  was  a  bill,  since  the  Revolution, 
past  both  Houses  of  Parliament  to  this  purpose  :  but  whether  it  was  for  being 
any  way  defective  or  otherwise  that  His  Majesty  refused  to  assent  to  it,  I  cannot 
remember.  But  I  know  the  reason  satisfied  me  at  that  time.  And  I  make  no 
doubt  but  he'll  consent  to  any  good  bill  of  this  nature  whenever 'tis  offered." 
These  words  convinced  me  that  the  bill  was  open  to  some  grave  objection  which 
did  not  appear  in  the  title,  and  which  no  historian  had  noticed.  I  found  among 
the  archives  of  the  House  of  Lords  the  original  parchment,  endorsed  with  the 
words  "  Le  Roy  et  la  Royne  s'aviseront ; "  and  it  was  clear  at  the  first  glance  what 
the  objection  was. 

There  is  a  hiatus  in  that  part  of  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  which  relates  to  this 
matter.  "  The  King,"  he  wrote,  "  passed  ten  public  bills  and  thirty-four  private 
ones,  and  rejected  that  of  the " 

As  to  the  present  practice  of  the  House  of  Commons  in  such  cases,  see  Hat- 
sell's  valuable  ,work,  ii.  356.  I  quote  the  edition  of  1818.  Hatsell  says  that 
many  bills  which  affect  the  interest  of  the  Crown  may  be  brought  in  without 
any  signification  of  the  royal  consent,  and  that  it  is  enough  if  the  consent  be 
signified  on  the  second  reading,  or  even  later ;  but  that,  in  a  proceeding  which 
affects  the  hereditary  revenue,  the  consent  must  be  signified  in  the  earliest 


the  Treasury  by  Sir  Edward  Seymour.  Many  Tory  country 
gentlemen,  who  had  looked  on  Seymour  as  their  leader  in  the 
war  against  placemen  and  Dutchmen,  were  moved  to  indigna- 
tion by  learning  that  he  had  become  a  courtier.  They  remem- 
bered that  he  had  voted  for  a  Regency,  that  he  had  taken  the 
oaths  with  no  good  grace,  and  that  he  had  spoken  with  little 
respect  of  the  Sovereign  whom  he  was  now  ready  to  serve  for 
the  sake  of  emoluments  hardly  worthy  of  the  acceptance  of  a 
man  of  his  wealth  and  parliamentary  interest.  It  was  strange 
that  the  haughtiest  of  human  beings  should  be  the  meanest,  that 
one  who  seemed  to  reverence  nothing  on  earth  but  himself 
should  abase  himself  for  the  sake  of  quarter  day.  About  such 
reflections  he  troubled  himself  very  little.  He  found,  however, 
that  there  was  one  disagreeable  circumstance  connected  with 
his  new  office.  At  the  Board  of  Treasury  he  must  sit  below 
the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  The  First  Lord,  Godolphin, 
was  a  peer  of  the  realm ;  and  his  right  to  precedence,  according 
to  the  rules  of  the  heralds,  could  not  be  questioned.  But  every- 
body knew  who  was  the  first  of  English  commoners.  What 
was  Richard  Hampden  that  he  should  take  place  of  a  Seymour, 
of  the  head  of  the  Seymours  ?  With  much  difficulty,  the  dis- 
pute was  compromised.  Many  concessions  were  made  to  Sir 
Edward's  punctilious  pride.  lie  was  sv/orn  of  the  Council.  He 
was  appointed  one  of  the  Cabinet.  The  King  took  him  by  the 
hand  and  presented  him  to  the  Queen.  "  I  bring  von,"  said 
William,  "  a  gentleman  who  will  in  my  absence  be  a  valuable 
friend."  In  this  way  Sir  Edward  was  so  much  soothed  and 
flattered  that  he  ceased  to  insist  on  his  right  to  thrust  himself 
between  the  First  Lord  and  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

In  the  same  Commission  of  Treasury  in  which  the  name  of 
Seymour  appeared,  appeared  also  the  name  of  a  much  younger 
politician,  who  had,  during  the  late  session,  raised  himself  to 
hi«;h  distinction  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Charles  Montague. 
This  appointment  gave  great  satisfaction  to  the  Whigs,  in  whose 
esteem  Montague  now  stood  higher  than  their  veteran  chiefs 
Sacheverell  and  Powle,  and  was  indeed  second  to  Somers  alone. 

Sidney  delivered  up  the  seals  which  he  had  held  during  more 

WILLIAM   AMD    MARY.  273 

than  a  year,  and  was  appointed  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland. 
Some  months  elapsed  before  the  place  which  he  had  quitted  was 
filled  up ;  and  during  this  interval  the  whole  business  which  had 
ordinarily  been  divided  between  two  Secretaries  of  State  was 
transacted  by  Nottingham.* 

While  these  arrangements  were  in  progress,  events  had 
taken  place  in  a  distant  part  of  the  island,  which  were  not, 
till  after  the  lapse  of  many  months,  known  in  the  best  informed 
circles  of  London,  but  which  gradually  obtained  a  fearful  no- 
toriety, and  which,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  a  hundred  and 
sixty  years  are  never  mentioned  without  horror. 

Soon  after  the  Estates  of  Scotland  had  separated  in  the  au- 
tumn of  1690,  a  change  was  made  in  the  administration  of  that 
kingdom.  William  was  not  satisfied  with  the  way  in  which  he 
had  been  represented  in  the  Parliament  House.  He  thought 
that  the  rabbled  curates  had  been  hardly  treated.  He  had  very 
reluctantly  suffered  the  law  which  abolished  patronage  to  be 
touched  with  his  sceptre.  But  what  especially  displeased  him 
was  that  the  Acts  which  established  a  new  ecclesiastical  polity 
bad  not  been  accompanied  by  an  Act  granting  liberty  of  con- 
science to  those  who  were  attached  to  the  old  ecclesiastical 
polity.  He  had  directed  his  Commissioner  Melville  to  obtain 
for  the  Episcopalians  of  Scotland  an  indulgence  similar  to  that 
which  Dissenters  enjoyed  in  England.f  But  the  Presbyterian 
preachers  were  loud  and  vehement  against  lenity  to  Amalekites. 
Melville,  with  useful  talents,  and  perhaps  with  fair  intentions, 
had  neither  large  views  nor  an  intrepid  spirit.  He  shrank  from 
uttering  a  word  so  hateful  to  the  theological  demagogues  of  his 
country  as  Toleration.  By  obsequiously  humouring  their  pre- 
judices he  quelled  the  clamour  which  was  rising  at  Edinburgh  ; 
but  the  effect  of  his  timid  caution  was  that  a  far  more  formida- 
ble clamour  soon  rose  in  the  south  of  the  island  against  the 
bigotry  of  the  schismatics  who  domineered  in  the  north,  and 

*  The  history  of  these  ministerial  arrangements  I  have  taken  chiefly  from 
the  London  Gnzette  of  March  3.  and  March  7,  1691-2,  and  from  Narcissus  Luttrell'8 
JMan-  for  that  month.  Two  or  three  slight  touches  are  from  contemporary  pam- 

f  William  to  Melville.  May  22,  1690. 

VOL.  IV.— 18 


against  the  pusillanimity  of  the  government  which  had  not 
dared  to  withstand  that  bigotry.  On  this  subject  the  High 
Churchman  and  the  Low  Churchman  were  of  one  mind,  or 
rather  the  Low  Churchman  was  the  more  angry  of  the  two. 
A  man  like  South,  who  had  during  many  years  been  predicting 
that,  if  ever  the  Puritans  ceased  to  be  oppressed,  they  would 
become  oppressors,  was  at  heart  not  ill  pleased  to  see  his  proph- 
ecy fulfilled.  But  in  a  man  like  Burnet,  the  great  object  of 
whose  life  had  been  to  mitigate  the  animosity  which  the  minis- 
ters of  the  Anglican  Church  felt  towards  the  Presbyterians,  the 
intolerant  conduct  of  the  Presbyterians  could  awaken  no  feel- 
ing but  indignation,  shame  and  grief.  There  was,  therefore,  at 
the  English  Court  nobody  to  speak  a  good  word  for  Melville. 
It  was  impossible  that  in  such  circumstances  he  should  remain 
at  the  head  of  the  Scottish  administration.  He  was,  however, 
gently  let  down  from  his  high  position.  He  continued  during 
more  than  a  year  to  be  Secretary  of  State  :  but  another  Secre- 
tary was  appointed,  who  was  to  reside  near  the  King,  aud  to 
have  the  chief  direction  of  affairs.  The  new  Prime  Minister 
for  Scotland  was  the  able,  eloquent,  and  accomplished  Sir  John 
Dalrymple.  His  father,  the  Lord  President  of  the  Court  of 
Session,  had  lately  been  raised  to  the  peerage  by  the  title  of 
Viscount  Stair ;  and  Sir  John  Dalrymple  was  consequently,  ac- 
cording to  the  ancient  usage  of  Scotland,  designated  as  the  Mas- 
ter of  Stair.  In  a  few  months  Melville  resigned  his  secretary- 
ship, arid  accepted  an  office  of  some  dignity  and  emolument,  but 
of  no  political  importance.* 

The  Lowlands  of  Scotland  were,  during  the  year  which  fol 
lowed  the  parliamentary  session  of  1G90,  as  quiet  as  they  had 
ever  been  within  the  memory  of  man  :  but  the  state  of  the 
Highlands  caused  much  anxiety  to  the  government.  The  civil 
war  in  that  wild  region,  after  it  had  ceased  to  flame,  had  con- 

*  See  the  preface  to  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers.  I  hare  given  what  I 
believe  to  be  a  true  explanation  of  Burnet's  hostility  to  Melville.  Melville's  de- 
scendant, who  has  deserved  well  of  all  students  of  history  by  the  diligence  and 
fidelity  with  which  he  has  performed  his  editorial  duties,  thinks  that  Burnet's 
judgment  was  blinded  by  zeal  for  Prelacy  and  hatred  of  Presbyteriauism.  This 
accusation  will  surprise  uud  amuse  English  High  Churchmen. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  275 

tinued  during  some  time  to  smoulder.  At  length,  early  in  the 
year  1691,  the  rebel  chiefs  informed  the  Court  of  Saint  Ger- 
mains  that,  pressed  as  they  were  on  every  side,  they  could  hold 
out  no  longer  without  succour  from  France.  James  had  sent 


them  a  small  quantity  of  meal,  brandy,  and  tobacco,  and  had 
frankly  told  them  that  he  could  do  nothing  more.  Money  was 
so  scarce  among  them  that  six  hundred  pounds  sterling  would 
have  been  a  most  acceptable  addition  to  their  funds :  but  even 
such  a  sum  he  was  unable  to  spare.  He  could  scarcely,  in 
such  circumstances,  expect  them  to  defend  his  cause  against  a 
government  which  had  a  regular  army  and  a  large  revenue. 
He  therefore  informed  them  that  he  should  not  take  it  ill  of 
them  if  they  made  their  peace  with  the  new  dynasty,  provided 
always  that  they  were  prepared  to  rise  in  insurrection  as  soon 
as  he  should  call  on  them  to  do  so.* 

Meanwhile  it  had  been  determined  at  Kensington,  in  spite 
of  the  opposition  of  the  Master  of  Stair,  to  try  the  plan  which 
Tarbet  had  recommended  two  years  before,  and  which,  if  it 
had  been  tried  when  he  recommended  it,  would  probably  have 
prevented  much  bloodshed  and  confusion.  It  was  resolved 
that  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  pounds  should  be  laid  out  in. 
quieting  the  Highlands.  This  was  a  mass  of  treasure  which  to 
an  inhabitant  of  Appin  or  Lochaber  seemed  almost  fabulous, 
and  which  indeed  bore  a  greater  proportion  to  the  income  of 
Keppoch  or  Glengarry  than  fifteen  hundred  thousand  pounds 
bore  to  the  income  of  Lord  Bedford  or  Lord  Devonshire.  The 
sum  was  ample ;  but  the  King  was  not  fortunate  in  the  choice 
of  an  agent,  f 

John  Earl  of  Breadalbane,  the  head  of  a  younger  branch 
of  the  great  house  of  Campbell,  ranked  high  among  the  petty 
princes  of  the  mountains.  He  could  bring  seventeen  hundred 
claymores  into  the  field ;  and,  ten  years  before  the  Revolution, 
he  had  actually  marched  into  the  Lowlands  with  this  great  force 
for  the  purpose  of  supporting  the  prelatical  tyranny. $  In  those 

»  Life  of  James,  ii.  468,  4C9. 

t  Burnet,  ii.  8$  ;  Master  of  Stair  to  Breadalbane,  Dec.  2, 1691. 

t  Buruet,  i.  418. 


days  he  had  affected  zeal  for  monarchy  and  episcopacy  :  but  in 
truth  he  cared  for  no  government  and  no  religion.  He  seems 
to  have  united  two  different  sets  of  vices,  the  growth  of  two  differ- 
ent regions,  and  of  two  different  stages  in  the  progress  of  society. 
In  his  castle  among  the  hills  he  had  learned  the  barbarian  pride  and 
ferocity  of  a  Highland  chief.  In  the  Council  Chamber  at  Edin- 
burgh he  had  contracted  the  deep  taintof  treachery  an'1  corruption. 
After  the  Revolution  he  had,  like  too  many  of  his  fellow  nobles, 
joined  and  betrayed  every  party  in  turn,  had  sworn  fealty  to 
William  and  Mary,  and  had  plotted  against  them.  To  trace 
all  the  turns  and  doublings  of  his  course,  during  the  year  1689 
and  the  earlier  part  of  1690,  would  be  wearisome.*  That 
course  became  somewhat  less  tortuous  when  the  battle  of  the 
Boyne  had  cowed  the  spirit  of  the  Jacobites.  It  now  seemed 
probable  that  the  Earl  would  be  a  loyal  subject  of  their  Majes- 
ties, till  some  great  disaster  should  befall  them.  Nobody  who 
knew  him  could  trust  him  :  but  few  Scottish  statesmen  could 
then  be  trusted  ;  and  yet  Scottish  statesmen  must  be  employed. 
His  position  and  connections  marked  him  out  as  a  man  who 
might,  if  he  would,  do  much  towards  the  work  of  quieting  the 
Highlands  ;  and  his  interest  seemed  to  be  a  guarantee  for  his 
zeal.  He  had,  as  he  declared  with  every  appearance  of  truth, 
strong  personal  reasons  for  wishing  to  see  tranquillity  restored. 
His  domains  were  so  situated  that,  while  the  civil  war  lasted, 
his  vassals  could  not  tend  their  herds  or  sow  their  oats  in 
peace.  His  lands  were  daily  ravaged :  his  cattle  were  daily 
driven  away  :  one  of  his  houses  had  been  burnt  down.  It  was 
probable,  therefore,  that  he  would  do  his  best  to  put  an  end  to 

He  was  accordingly  commissioned  to  treat  with  the  Jaco- 
bite chiefs,  and  was  entrusted  with  the  money  which  was  to  be 
distributed  among  them.  He  invited  them  to  a  conference  at 
his  residence  in  Glenorchy.  They  came  :  but  the  treaty  went 
on  very  slowly.  Every  head  of  a  tribe  asked  for  a  larger  share 

»  Crawford  to  Melville,  July  23,  1689 ;  The  Master  of  Stair  to  Melville.  Aug.  16, 
1689  ;  Cardross  to  Melville,  Sept.  9,  1689  ;  Balcarras's  Memoirs  ;  Auuaiidale's  Con- 
fession, Aug.  14.  1G90. 

t  Breadalbaue  to  Melville,  Sept.  17, 1690. 

WILLIAM   AXD    MART.  277 

of  the  English  gold  than  was  to  be  obtained.  Breadalbane  was 
suspected  of  intending  to  cheat  both  the  King  and  the  clans. 
The  dispute  between  the  rebels  and  the  government  was  com- 
plicated with  another  dispute  still  more  embarrassing.  The 
Camerons  and  Macdonalds  were  really  at  war,  not  with  Wil- 
liam, but  with  Mac  Callum  More ;  and  no  arrangement  to 
which  Mac  Callum  More  was  not  a  party  could  really  produce 
tranquillity.  A  grave  question  therefore  arose,  whether  the 
money  entrusted  to  Breadalbane  should  be  paid  directly  to  the 
discontented  chiefs,  or  should  be  employed  to  satisfy  the  claims 
which  Argyle  had  upon  them.  The  shrewdness  of  Lochiel  and 
the  arrogant  pretensions  of  Glengarry  contributed  to  protract 
the  discussions.  But  no  Celtic  potentate  was  so  impracticable 
as  Macdonald  of  Glencoe,  known  among  the  mountains  by  the 
hereditary  appellation  of  Mac  Ian.* 

Mac  Ian  dwelt  in  the  mouth  of  a  ravine  situated  not  far 
from  the  southern  shore  of  Lochleven,  an  arm  of  the  sea 
which  deeply  indents  the  western  coast  of  Scotland,  and 
separates  Argyleshire  from  Invernessshire.  Near  his  house 
were  two  or  three  small  hamlets  inhabited  by  his  tribe.  The 
whole  population  which  he  governed  was  not  supposed  to 
exceed  two  hundred  souls.  In  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
little  cluster  of  villages  was  some  copsewood  and  some  pas- 
ture land  :  but  a  little  further  up  the  defile  no  sign  of  popu- 
lation or  of  fruitfulness  was  to  be  seen.  In  the  Gaelic  tongue, 
Glencoe  signifies  the  Gleu  of  "Weeping:  and  in  truth  that 
pass  is  the  most  dreary  and  melancholy  of  all  the  Scottish 
passes,  the  very  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  Mists  and 
storms  brood  over  it  through  the  greater  part  of  the  finest 
summer  ;  and  even  on  those  rare  days  when  the  sun  is  bright, 
and  when  there  is  no  cloud  in  the  sky,  the  impression  made 
by  the  landscape  is  sad  and  awful.  The  path  lies  along  a 
stream  which  issues  from  the  most  sullen  and  gloomy  of  moun- 
tain pools.  Huge  precipices  of  naked  stone  frown  on  both  sides. 
Even  in  July  the  streaks  of  snow  may  often  be  discerned  in  the 

*  The  Master  of  Stair  to  Hamilton,  Ang.  17-27, 1691 ;  Hill  to  Melville,  June  93, 
1691 ;  The  Master  of  Stair  to  Breaualbaue,  Aug.  21, 1C91. 


rifts  near  the  summits.  All  down  the  sides  of  the  crags  heaps  of 
ruin  mark  the  headlong  paths  of  the  torrents.  Mile  after  mile 
the  traveller  looks  in  vain  for  the  smoke  of  one  hut,  or  for  one 
human  form  wrapped  in  a  plaid,  and  listens  in  vain  for  the  bark 
of  a  shepherd's  dog,  or  the  bleat  of  a  lamb.  Mile  after  mile  the 
only  sound  that  indicates  life  is  the  faint  cry  of  a  bird  of  prey 
from  some  storm  beaten  pinnacle  of  rock.  The  progress  of  civ- 
ilisation, which  has  turned  so  many  wastes  into  fields  yellow  with 
harvests  or  gay  with  apple  blossoms,  has  only  made  Glencoe 
more  desolate.  All  the  science  and  industry  of  a  peaceful  a£p 
can  extract  nothing  valuable  from  that  wilderness :  but,  in  an 
age  of  violence  and  rapine,  the  wilderness  itself  was  valued 
on  account  of  the  shelter  which  it  afforded  to  the  plunderer 
and  his  plunder.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  that 
the  clan  to  which  this  rugged  desert  belonged  should  have 
been  noted  for  predatory  habits.  For,  among  the  High- 
landers generally,  to  rob  was  thought  at  least  as  honourable 
an  employment  as  to  cultivate  the  soil ;  and,  of  all  the  High- 
landers, the  Macdonalds  of  Glencoe  had  the  least  productive 
soil,  and  the  most  convenient  and  secure  den  of  robbers. 
Successive  governments  had  tried  to  punish  this  wild  race  : 
lut  no  large  force  had  ever  been  employed  for  that  purpose  ; 
.-.-id  a  small  force  was  easily  resisted  or  eluded  by  men 
familiar  with  every  recess  and  every  outlet  of  the  natural 
fortress  in  which  they  had  been  born  and  bred.  The  people 
of  Glencoe  would  probably  have  been  less  troublesome  neigh- 
bours, if  they  had  lived  among  their  own  kindred.  But  they 
were  an  outpost  of  the  Clan  Donald,  separated  from  every 
other  branch  of  their  own  family,  and  almost  surrounded  by 
the  domains  of  the  hostile  race  of  Diarmid.*  They  were 
impelled  by  hereditary  enmity,  as  well  as  by  want,  to  live  at 

*  "  The  real  truth  is,  they  were  a  branch  of  the  Maedonalds  (who  were  a  brave 
courageous  people  always),  seated  among  the  Campbells,  who  (I  mean  the  Glencoe 
men)  are  all  rapists,  if  they  have  any  religion,  were  always  counted  a  people 
much  given  to  rapine  and  plunder,  or  sorners  as  we  call  it,  and  much  of  a  piece 
•with  your  highwayman  in  England.  Several  governments  desired  to  bring  them 
to  justice  :  but  their  country  waa  inaccessible  to  small  parties."  See  An  impartial 
Account  of  some  of  the  Transactions  in  Scotland  concerning  the  Earl  of  Breadal- 
bane,  Viscount  and  Master  of  Stair,  Glenco  Men,  &c.,  London,  1C95- 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  279 

the  expense  of  the  tribe  of  Campbell.  Breadalbane's  prop- 
erty had  suffered  greatly  from  their  depredations  ;  and  -he 
was  not  of  a  temper  to  forgive  such  injuries.  When  therefore 
the  Chief  of  Glencoe  made  his  appearance  at  the  congress  in 
Glenorchy,  he  was  ungraciously  received.  The  Earl,  who  ordi- 
narily bore  himself  with  the  solemn  dignity  of  a  Castilian  gran- 
dee, forgot,  in  his  resentment,  his  wonted  gravity,  forgot  his 
public  character,  forgot  the  laws  of  hospitality,  and,  with  angry 
reproaches  and  menaces,  demanded  reparation  for  the  herds 
which  had  been  driven  from  his  lands  by  Mac  lan's  followers. 
Mac  Ian  was  seriously  apprehensive  of  some  personal  outrage, 
and  was  glad  to  get  safe  back  to  his  own  glen.*  His  pride  had 
been  wounded  ;  and  the  promptings  of  interest  concurred  with 
those  of  pride.  As  the  head  of  a  people  who  lived  by  pillage, 
he  had  strong  reasons  for  wishing  that  the  country  might  con- 
tinue to  be  in  a  perturbed  state.  He  had  little  chance  of  receiv- 
ing one  guinea  of  the  money  which  was  to  be  distributed  among 
the  maleconteuts.  For  his  share  of  that  money  would  scarcely 
meet  Breadalbane's  demands  for  compensation  ;  and  there  could 
be  little  doubt  that,  whoever  might  be  unpaid,  Breadalbane 
would  take  care  to  pay  himself.  Mac  Ian  therefore  did  his  best 
to  dissuade  his  allies  from  accepting  terms  from  which  he  could 
himself  expect  no  benefit  ;  and  his  influence  was  not  small. 
His  own  vassals,  indeed,  were  few  in  number  :  but  he  came  of 
the  best  blood  of  the  Highlands  :  he  kept  up  a  close  connection 
with  his  more  powerful  kinsmen  ;  nor  did  they  like  him  the  less 
because  he  was  a  robber  ;  for  he  never  robbed  them ;  and  that 
robbery,  merely  as  robbery,  was  a  wicked  and  disgraceful  act,  had 
never  entered  into  the  mind  of  any  Celtic  chief.  Mac  Ian  was 
therefore  held  in  high  esteem  by  the  confederates.  His  age  was 
venerable  :  his  aspect  was  majestic  ;  and  he  possessed  in  large 
measure  those  intellectual  qualities  which,  in  rude  societies,  give 
men  an  ascendency  over  their  fellows.  Breadalbane  found 
himself,  at  every  step  of  the  negotiation,  thwarted  by  the  arts 
of  his  old  enemy,  and  abhorred  the  name  of  Glencoe  more  and 
more  every  day-t 

*  Report  of  the  Commissioners,  sijrned  nt  Holyrood,  June  20,  1695. 

i  Gallienus  Kodivivus ;    liurnet,  ii.  88 ;    Iteport  of  the  Commission  of  1G95, 


But  the  government  did  not  trust  solely  to  Breadalbane's 
diplomatic  skill.     The  authorities  at  Edinburgh  put  forth  a  proc- 
lamation exhorting  the  clans   to  submit  to  King  William  and 
Queen  Mary,  and  offering  pardon   to   every  rebel  who,  on  or 
before  the  thirty-first  of  December  1691,  should  swear  to  live 
peaceably  under  the  government  of  their  Majesties.     It  was 
announced  that  those  who  should  hold  out  after  that  day  would 
be  treated  as  enemies  and  traitors.*     Warlike1  preparations  were 
made,  which  showed  that  the  threat  was  meant  in  earnest.     The 
Highlanders  were  alarmed,  and  though  the  pecuniary  terms  had 
not  been  satisfactorily  settled,  thought  it  prudent  to  give  the 
pledge  which  was   demanded  of  them.     No  chief,  indeed,  was 
willing  to  set  the  example  of  submission.     Glengarry  blustered, 
and  pretended  to  fortify  his  house.f  "  I  will  not,"  said  Lochiel, 
"  break  the  ice.     That  is  a  point  of  honour  with  me.     But  my 
tacksmen  and  people  may  use  their  freedom."^:     His  tacksmen 
and  people  understood  him,  and  repaired  by  hundreds  to  the 
Sheriff  to  take  the  oaths.  The  Macdonalds  of  Sleat,  Clanronald, 
Keppoch,  and  even  Glengarry,  imitated  the  Camerons  ;  and  the 
chiefs,  after  trying  to  outstay  each  other  as  long  as  they  durst, 
imitated  their  vassals. 

The  thirty -first  of  December  arrived  ;  and  still  the  Mac- 
donalds of  Glencoe  had  riot  come  in.  The  punctilious  pride  of 
Mac  Ian  was  doubtless  gratified  by  the  thought  that  lie  had  con- 
tinued to  defy  the  government  after  the  boastful  Glengarry,  the 
ferocious  Keppoch,  the  magnanimous  Lochiel  had  yielded :  but 
he  bought  his  gratification  dear. 

At  length,  on  the  thirty-first  of  December,  he  repaired  to 
Fort  William,  accompanied  by  his  principal  vassals,  and  offered 
to  take  the  oaths.  To  his  dismay,  he  found  that  there  was  in 
the  fort  no  person  competent  to  administer  them.  Colonel  Hill, 
the  Governor,  was  not  a  magistrate  ;  nor  was  there  any  magis- 
trate nearer  than  Inverary.  Mac  Ian,  now  fully  sensible  of  the 
folly  of  which  he  had  been  guilty  in  postponing  to  the  very  last 
moment  an  act  on  which  his  life  and  his  estate  depended,  set  off 

*  Report  of  the  Glencoe  Commission,  1695. 

t  Hill  to  Melville,  May  15, 1691.  J  Ibid.  June  3, 1691. 

WILLIAM    AXD    MART.  281 

for  Inverary  in  great  distress.  He  carried  with  him  a  letter 
from  Hill  to  the  Sheriff  of  Argyleshire,  Sir  Colin  Campbell  of 
Ardkinglass,  a  respectable  gentleman,  who,  in  the  late  reign,  had 
suffered  severely  for  his  Whig  principles.  In  this  letter  the 
Colonel  expressed  a  good  natured  hope  that,  even  out  of  season, 
a  lost  sheep,  and  so  fine  a  lost  sheep,  would  be  gladly  received. 
Mac  Ian  made  all  the  haste  in  his  power,  and  did  not  stop  even  at 
his  own  house,  though  it  lay  nigh  to  the  road.  But  in  that  age  a 
journey  through  Argyleshire  in  the  depth  of  winter  was 
necessarily  slow.  The  old  man's  progress  up  steep  mountains 
and  along  boggy  valleys  was  obstructed  by  snow  storms  ;  and 
it  was  not  till  the  sixth  of  January  that  he  presented  himself 
befere  the  Sheriff  at  Inverary.  The  Sheriff  hesitated.  His 
power,  he  said,  was  limited  by  the  terms  of  the  proclamation  ; 
and  he  did  not,  see  how  he  could  swear  a  rebel  who  had  not 
submitted  within  the  prescribed  time.  Mac  Ian  begged  ear- 
nestly and  with  tears  that  he  might  be  sworn.  His  people,  he 
said,  would  follow  his  example.  If  any  of  them  proved  refrac- 
tory, he  would  himself  send  the  recusant  to  prison,  or  ship  him 
off  for  Flanders.  His  entreaties  and  Hill's  letter  overcame  Sir 
Colin's  scruples.  The  oath  was  administered  ;  and  a  certificate 
was  transmitted  to  the  Council  at  Edinburgh,  setting  forth  the 
special  circumstances  which  had  induced  the  Sheriff  to  do  what 
he  knew  not  to  be  strictly  regular.* 

The  news  that  Mac  Ian  had  not  submitted  within  the  pre- 
scribed time  was  received  with  cruel  joy  by  three  powerful 
Scotchmen  who  were  then  at  the  English  Court.  Breadalbane 
had  gone  up  to  London  at  Christmas  in  order  to  give  an  account 
of  his  stewardship.  There  he  met  his  kinsman  Argyle.  Argyle 
was,  in  personal  qualities,  one  of  the  most  insignificant  of  the 
long  line  of  nobles  who  have  borne  that  great  name.  He  was 
the  descendant  of  eminent  men,  and  the  parent  of  eminent  men. 
He  was  the  grandson  of  one  of  the  ablest  of  Scottish  politicians  ; 
the  son  of  one  of  the  bravest  and  most  true  hearted  of  Scottish 

*  Bumet,  ii.  8,  9 ;  Report  of  the  Glencoe  Commission.  The  authorities  quoted 
in  this  part  of  the  Report  were  the  depositions  of  Hill,  of  Campbell  of  Ardkin- 
glass,  aud  of  Mac  lan's  two  sous. 


patriots  ;  the  father  of  one  Mac  Callum  More  renowned  as  a 
warrior  and  as  an  orator,  as  the  model  of  every  courtly  grace, 
and  as  the  judicious  patron  of  arts  and  letters,  and  of  another 
Mac  Callum  More  distinguished  by  talents  for  business  and 
command,  and  by  skill  in  the  exact  sciences.  Both  of  such  au 
ancestry  and  of  such  a  progeny  Argyle  was  unworthy.  He  had 
even  been  guilty  of  the  crime,  common  enough  among  Scottish 
politicians,  but  in  him  singularly  disgraceful,  of  tampering  with 
the  agents  of  James  while  professing  loyalty  to  William.  Still 
Argyle  had  the  importance  inseparable  from  high  rank,  vast 
domains,  extensive  feudal  rights,  and  almost  boundless  patriar- 
chal authority.  To  him,  as  to  his  cousin  Breadalbane,  the  in- 
telligence that  the  tribe  of  Glencoe  was  out  of  the  protection  of 
the  law  was  most  gratify  ing;  and  the  Master  of  Stair  more  than 
sympathised  with  them  both. 

The  feeling  of  Argyle  and  Breadalbane  is  perfectly  intelli- 
gible. They  were  the  heads  of  a  great  clan  ;  and  they  had  an 
opportunity  of  destroying  a  neighbouring  clan  with  which  they 
were  at  deadly  feud.  Breadalbane  had  received  peculiar  prov- 
ocation. His  estate  had  been  repeatedly  devastated ;  and  he 
had  just  been  thwarted  in  a  negotiation  of  high  moment.  Un- 
happily there  was  scarcely  any  excess  of  ferocity  for  which  a 
precedent  could  not  be  found  in  Celtic  tradition.  Among  all 
warlike  barbarians  revenge  is  esteemed  the  most  sacred  of  duties 
and  the  most  exquisite  of  pleasures  ;  and  so  it  had  long  been 
esteemed  among  the  Highlanders.  The  history  of  the  clans 
abounds  with  frightful  tales,  some  perhaps  fabulous  or  exag- 
gerated, some  certainly  true,  of  vindictive  massacres  and 
assassinations.  The  Macdonalds  of  Glengarry,  for  example, 
having  been  affronted  by  the  people  of  a  parish  near  Inverness, 
surrounded  the  parish  church  on  a  Sunday,  shut  the  doors,  and 
burned  the  whole  congregation  alive.  While  the  flames  were 
raging,  the  hereditary  musicians  of  the  murderers  mocked  the 
shrieks  of  the  perishing  crowd  with  the  notes  of  his  bagpipe.* 
A  band  of  Macgregors,  having  cut  off  the  head  of  an  enemy, 
laid  it,  the  mouth  filled  with  bread  arid  cheese,  on  his  sister's 

*  Johnson's  Tour  to  the  Hebrides. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  283 

table,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  go  mad  with  horror 
at  the  sight.  They  then  carried  the  ghastly  trophy  in  triumph, 
to  their  chief.  The  whole  clan  met  under  thereof  of  an  ancient 
church.  Every  one  in  turn  laid  his  hand  on  the  dead  man's 
scalp,  and  vowed  to  defend  the  slayers.*  The  inhabitants  of 
Eigg  seized  some  Macleods,  bound  them  hand  and  foot,  and 
turned  them  adrift  in  a  boat  to  be  swallowed  up  by  the  waves, 
or  to  perish  of  hunger.  The  Macleods  retaliated  by  driving  the 
population  of  Eigg  into  a  cavern,  lighting  a  fire  at  the  entrance, 
and  suffocating  the  whole  race,  men,  women,  and  children. f  It 
is  much  less  strange  that  the  two  great  Earls  of  the  House  of 
Campbell,  animated  by  the  passions  of  Highland  chieftains, 
should  have  planned  a  Highland  revenge,  than  that  they  should 
have  found  an  accomplice,  and  something  more  than  an  accom- 
plice, in  the  Master  of  Stair. 

The  Master  of  Stair  was  one  of  the  first  men  of  his  time,  a 
jurist,  a  statesman,  a  fine  scholar,  an  eloquent  orator.  His 
polished  manners  and  lively  conversation  were  the  delight  of 
aristocratical  societies  ;  and  none  who  met  him  in  such  societies 
would  have  thought  it  possible  that  he  could  bear  the  chief  part 
in  any  atrocious  crime.  His  political  principles  were  lax,  yet  not 
more  lax  than  those  of  most  Scotch  politicians  of  that  age. 
Cruelty  had  never  been  imputed  to  him.  Those  who  most  dis- 
liked him  did  him  the  justice  to  own  that,  where  his  schemes  of 
policy  were  not  concerned,  he  was  a  very  goodnatured  man.t 
There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  to  believe  that  he  gained  a  single 
pound  Scots  by  the  act  which  has  covered  his  name  with  infamy. 
He  had  no  personal  reason  to  wish  the  Glencoe  men  any  ill. 
There  had  been  no  feud  between  them  and  his  family.  His 
property  lay  in  a  district  where  their  tartan  was  never  seen.  Yet 
he  hated  them  with  a  hatred  as  fierce  and  implacable  as  if  they 
had  laid  waste  his  fields,  burned  his  mansion,  murdered  his  child 
in  the  cradle. 

To  what  cause  are  we  to  ascribe  so  strange  an  antipathy  ? 

»  Proclamation  of  the  Privy  Council  of  Scotland,  Feb.  4,  1589.  I  give  this  ref- 
erence on  the  authority  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  See  the  preface  to  the  Legend  of 

t  Johnson's  Tour  to  the  Hebrides.  J  Lockhart's  Memoirs. 


This  question  perplexed  the  Master's  contemporaries ;  and  any 
•answer  which  may  now  be  offered  ought  to  be  offered  with  dilli- 
dence.*  The  most  probable  conjecture  is  that  he  was  actuated 
by  an  inordinate,  an  unscrupulous,  a  remorseless  zeal  for  what 
seemed  to  him  to  be  the  interest  of  the  state.  This  explanation 
may  startle  those  who  have  not  considered  how  large  a  propor- 
tion of  the  blackest  crimes  recorded  in  history  is  to  be  ascribed 
to  ill  regulated  public  spirit.  We  daily  see  men  do  for  their 
party,  for  their  sect,  for  their  country,  for  their  favourite 
schemes  of  political  and  social  reform,  what  they  would  not  do 
to  enrich  or  to  avenge  themselves.  At  a  temptation  directly  ad- 
dressed to  our  private  cupidity  or  to  our  private  animosity, 
whatever  virtue  we  have  takes  the  alarm.  But  virtue  itself 
may  contribute  to  the  fall  of  him  who  imagines  that  it  is  power, 
by  violating  some  general  rule  of  morality,  to  confer  an  im- 
portant benefit  on  a  church,  on  a  commonwealth,  on  mankind. 
He  silences  the  remonstrances  of  conscience,  and  hardens  his 
heart  against  the  most  touching  spectacles  of  misery,  by  repeat- 
ing to  himself  that  his  intentions  are  pure,  that  his  objects  are 
noble,  that  he  is  doing  a  little  evil  for  the  sake  of  a  great  good. 
By  degrees  he  comes  altogether  to  forget  the  turpitude  of  the 
means  in  the  excellence  of  the  end,  and  at  length  perpetrates 
without  one  internal  twinge  acts  which  would  shock  a  buccaneer. 
There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  Dominic  would,  for  the  best 
archbishopric  in  Christendom,  have  incited  ferocious  marauders 
to  plunder  and  slaughter  a  peaceful  and  industrious  population, 
that  Everard  Digby  would,  for  a  dukedom,  have  blown  a  large 
assembly  of  people  into  the  air,  or  that  Robespierre  would  have 
murdered  for  hire  one  of  the  thousands  whom  he  murdered 
from  philanthropy. 

The  Master  of  Stair  seems  to  have  proposed  to   himself  a 
truly  great  and  good  end,  the  pacification  and  civilisation  of  the 

*  "  What  under  heaven  was  the  Master's  byass  in  this  matter  ?  I  can  imagine 
none." — Impartial  Account,  1G95.  "  Nor  can  any  man  of  candour  and  ingenuity 
imagine  that  the  Earl  of  Stair,  who  had  neither  estate,  friendship  nor  enmity  in 
that  country,  nor  so  much  as  knowledge  of  these  persons,  and  who  was  never 
noted  for  cruelty  in  his  temper,  should  have  thirsted  after  the  blood  of  theso 
wretches."— Complete  History  of  Europe,  1707. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  285 

Highlands.  He  was,  by  the  acknowledgment  of  those  who  most 
hated  him,  a  man  of  large  views.  He  justly  thought  it  mon-* 
strous  that  a  third  part  of  Scotland  should  be  in  a  state  scarcely 
less  savage  than  New  Guinea,  that  letters  of  fire  and  sword 
should,  through  a  third  part  of  Scotland,  be,  century  after  cen- 
tury, a  species  of  legal  process,  and  that  no  attempt  should  be 
made  to  apply  a  radical  remedy  to  such  evils.  The  indepen- 
dence affected  by  a  crowd  of  petty  sovereigns,  the  contumacious 
resistance  which  they  were  in  the  habit  of  offering  to  the  au- 
thority of  the  Crown  and  of  the  Court  of  Session,  their  wars, 
their  robberies,  their  fireraisings,  their  practice  of  exacting 
black  mail  from  people  more  peaceableand  more  useful  than  them- 
selves, naturally  excited  the  disgust  and  indignation  of  an  en- 
lightened and  politic  gownsman,  who  was,  both  by  the  constitution 
of  his  mind  and  by  the  habits  of  his  profession,  a  lover  of  law  and 
order.  His  object  was  no  less  than  a  complete  dissolution, 
and  reconstruction  of  society  in  the  Highlands,  such  a  dissolution 
and  reconstruction  as,  two  generations  later,  followed  the  battle 
of  Culloden.  In  his  view  the  clans,  as  they  existed,  were  the 
plagues  of  the  kingdom  ;  and  of  all  the  clans  the  worst  was 
that  which  inhabited  Glencoe.  He  had,  it  is  said,  been  par- 
ticularly struck  \>y  a  frightful  instance  of  the  lawlessness  and 
ferocity  of  those  marauders.  One  of  them,  who  had  been 
concerned  in  some  act  of  violence  or  rapine,  had  given  in- 
formation against  his  companions.  He  had  been  bound  to  a 
tree  and  murdered.  The  old  chief  had  given  the  first  stab ; 
and  scores  of  dirks  had  then  been  plunged  into  the  wretch's 
body.*  By  the  mountaineers  such  an  act  was  probably  re- 
garded as  a  legitimate  exercise  of  patriarchal  jurisdiction.  To 
the  Master  of  Stair  it  seemed  that  people  among  whom  such 
things  were  done  and  were  approved  ought  to  be  treated  like  a 
pack  of  wolves,  snared  by  any  device,  and  slaughtered  without 

*  Dalrymple,  in  bis  Memoirs,  relates  this  story  without  referring  to  any  au- 
thority. His  authority  probably  was  family  tradition.  That  reports  were  current 
in  1692  of  horrible  crimes  committed  by  the  Macdonalus  of  Glencoe  is  certain 
from  the  Burnet  MS.  ftarl.  65*4.  "  They  had  indeed  been  guilty  of  many  black 
numbers,"  were  Burnet's  words  written  in  1693.  He  afterwards  softened  down 
this  expression. 


mercy.  He  was  well  read  in  history,  and  doubtless  knew  how 
great  rulers  had,  in  his  own  and  other  countries,  dealt  with  such 
banditti.  He  doubtless  knew  with  what  energy  and  what 
severity  James  the  Fifth  had  put  down  the  mosstroopers  of  the 
border,  how  the  chief  of  Henderland  had  been  hung  over  the 
gate  of  the  castle  in  which  he  had  prepared  a  banquet  for  the 
King ;  how  John  Armstrong  and  his  thirty-six  horsemen,  when 
they  came  forth  to  welcome  their  sovereign,  had  scarcely  been 
allowed  time  to  say  a  single  prayer  before  they  were  all  tied  up 
and  turned  off.  Nor  probably  was  the  Secretary  ignorant  of 
the  means  by  which  Sixtus  the  Fifth  had  declared  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal state  of  outlaws.  The  eulogists  of  that  great  pontiff  tell  us 
that  there  was  one  formidable  gang  which  could  not  be  dislodged 
from  a  stronghold  among  the  Apennines.  Beasts  of  burden 
were  therefore  loaded  with  poisoned  food  and  wine,  and  sent  by 
a  road  which  ran  close  to  the  fastness-  The  robbers  sallied 
forth,  seized  the  prey,  feasted  and  died  ;  and  the  pious  old 
Pope  exulted  greatly  when  he  heard  that  the  corpses  of  thirty 
ruffians,  who  had  been  the  terror  of  many  peaceful  villages, 
had  been  found  lying  among  the  mules  and  packages.  The 
plans  of  the  Master  of  Stair  were  conceived  in  the  spirit  of 
James  and  of  Sixtus  ;  and  the  rebellion  of  the  mountaineers 
furnished  what  seemed  to  be  an  excellent  opportunity  for  car- 
ryii'g  those  plans  into  effect.  Mere  rebellion,  indeed,  he  could 
have  easily  pardoned.  On  Jacobites,  as  Jacobites,  he  never 
showed  any  inclination  to  bear  hard.  He  hated  the  Highland- 
ers, not  as  enemies  of  this  or  that  dynasty,  but  as  enemies  of 
law,  of  industry,  and  of  trade.  In  his  private  correspondence 
he  applied  to  them  the  short  and  terrible  form  of  words  in 
which  the  implacable  lioman  pronounced  the  doom  of  Carthage. 
His  project  was  no  less  than  this,  that  the  whole  hill  country 
from  sea  to  sea,  and  the  neighbouring  islands,  should  be  wasted 
with  fire  and  sword,  that  the  Camerons,  the  Macleans,  and  all 
the  branches  of  the  race  of  Macdonald,  should  be  rooted  out. 
He  therefore  looked  with  no  friendly  eye  on  ^chemes  of  recon- 
ciliation, and,  while  others  were  hoping  that  a  little  money 
would  set  everything  right,  hinted  very  intelligibly  his  opinion 


that  whatever  money  was  to  be  laid  out  on  the  clans  would  be 
best  laid  out  in  the  form  of  bullets  and  bayonets.  To  the  last 
moment  he  continued  to  flatter  himself  that  the  rebels  would  be 
obstinate,  and  would  thus  furnish  him  with  a  plea  for  accomplishing 
that  great  social  revolution  on  which  his  heart  was  set.*  The 
letter  is  still  extant  in  which  he  directed  the  commander  of  the 
forces  in  Scotland  how  to  act  if  the  Jacobite  chiefs  should  not 
come  in  before'  the  end  of  December.  There  is  something 


strangely  terrible  in  the  calmness  and  conciseness  with  which 
the  instructions  are  given.  "  Your  troops  will  destroy  en- 
tirely the  country  of  Lochaber,  Lochiel's  lands,  Keppoch's, 
Glengarry's  and  Gleucoe's.  Your  power  shall  be  large  enough. 
J  hope  the  soldiers  will  not  trouble  the  government  with  pris- 
oners." f 

This  despatch  had  scarcely  been  sent  off  when  news  arrived 
in  London  tfcat  the  rebel  chiefs,  after  holding  out  long,  had  at 
last  appeared  before  the  Sheriffs  and  taken  the  oaths.  Lochiel, 
the  most  eminent  man  among  them,  had  not  only  declared  that 
he  would  live  and  die  a  true  subject  to  King  William,  but  had 
announced  his  intention  of  visiting  England,  in  the  hope  of 
being  permitted  to  kiss  His  Majesty's  hand.  In  London  it  was 
announced  exultingly  that  all  the  clans  had  submitted ;  and 
the  announcement  was  generally  thought  most  satisfactory. $ 
But  the  Master  of  Stair  was  bitterly  disappointed.  The  High- 
lands were  then  to  continue  to  be  what  they  had  been,  the 
shame  and  curse  of  Scotland.  A  golden  opportunity  of  subject- 
ing them  to  the  law  had  been  suffered  to  escape,  and  might 
never  return.  If  only  the  Macdonalds  would  have  stood  out, 
nay,  if  an  example  could  but  have  been  made  of  the  two  worst 
Macdonalds,  Keppoch  and  Glencoe,  it  would  have  been  some- 

*  That  the  plan  originally  framed  by  the  Master  of  Stair  -was  such  as  I  have 
represented  it,  is  clear  from  parts  of  his  letters  which  are  quoted  in  the  Report  of 
1695,  and  from  his  letters  to  Breadalbane  of  October  27,  December  2,  and  Decem- 
ber 3, 1691.  Of  these  letters  to  Breadalbane,  the  last  two  are  in  Dalrymple's  Ap- 
pendix. The  first  is  in  the  Appendix  to  the  first  volume  of  Mr.  Burton's  valuable 
History  of  Scotland,  "It  appeared,"  says  Burnet  (ii.  157),  "  that  a  black  design 
•was  laid,  not  only  to  cut  off  the  men  of  Glencoe,  but  a  great  many  more  clans, 
reckoned  to  be  in  all  above  six  thousand  persons." 

t  This  letter  is  in  the  Report  of  1095. 

t  London  Gazette,  Jail.  14,  and  18,  1691-2. 


thing.  But  it  seemed  that  even  Keppoch  and  Glencoe,  maraud- 
ers who  in  any  well  governed  country  would  have  been  hanged 
thirty  years  before,  were  safe.*  While  the  Master  was  brood- 
ing over  thoughts  like  these,  Argyle  brought  him  some  comfort. 
The  report  that  Mac  Ian  had  taken  the  oaths  within  the  pre- 
scribed time  was  erroneous.  The  Secretary  was  consoled. 
One  clan,  then,  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  government,  and  that 
clan  the  most  lawless  of  all.  One  great  act  of  justice,  nay  of 
charity,  might  be  performed.  One  terrible  and  memorable 
example  might  be  made.t 

Yet  there  was  a  difficulty.  Mac  Ian  had  taken  the  oaths. 
He  had  taken  them,  indeed,  too  late  to  be  entitled  to  plead  the 
letter  of  the  royal  promise :  but  the  fact  that  he  had  taken 
them  was  one  which  evidently  ought  to  have  been  brought  un- 
der consideration,  before  his  fate  was  decided.  By  a  dark  in- 
trigue, of  which  the  history  is  but  imperfectly  known,  but 
which  was,  in  all  probability,  directed  by  the  Master  of  Stair, 
the  evidence  of  Mac  lan's  tardy  submission  was  suppressed. 
The  certificate  which  the  Sheriff  of  Argyleshire  had  transmitted 
to  the  Council  at  Edinburgh  was  never  laid  before  the  Board, 
but  was  privately  submitted  to  some  persons  high  in  office,  and 
particularly  to  Lord  President  Stair,  the  father  of  the  Secre- 
tary. These  persons  pronounced  the  certificate  irregular,  and, 
indeed,  absolutely  null  ;  and  it  was  cancelled. 

Meanwhile  the  Master  of  Stair  was  forming,  in  concert 
with  Breadalbane  and  Argyle,  a  plan  for  the  destruction  of  the 
people  of  Glencoe..  It  was  necessary  to  take  the  King's  pleas- 
ure, not,  indeed,  as  to  the  details  of  what  was  to  be  done,  but 
as  to  the  question  whether  Mac  Ian  and  his  people  should  or 
should  not  be  treated  as  rebels  out  of  the  pale  of  the  ordinary 
law.  The  Master  of  Stair  found  no  difficulty  in  the  royal  closet. 
William  had,  in  all  probability,  never  heard  the  Glencoe  men 
mentioned  except  as  banditti.  He  knew  that  they  had  not 

*  "  I  could  have  wished  the  Macdonalds  had  not  divided  ;  and  I  am  sorry  that 
Keppoeh  and  IVIackian  of  Glenco  are  safe." — Letter  of  the  Master  of  Stair  to  Lev- 
Ingstone,  Jan.  9,  1601-2,  quoted  in  the  Report  of  1C95. 

t  Letter  of  the  Master  of  Stair  to  Leviugstoiie,  Jau.  11, 1691-2,  quoted  in  the 
Report  of  165*5. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  289 

come  in  by  the  prescribed  day.  That  they  had  come  in  after 
that  day  he  did  not  know.  If  he  paid  any  attention  to  the  mat- 
ter, he  must  have  thought  that  so  fair  an  opportunity  of  putting 
an  end  to  the  devastations  and  depredations  from  which  a  quiet 
and  industrious  population  had  suffered  so  much  ought  not  to 
be  lost. 

An  order  was  laid  before  him  for  signature.  He  signed  it, 
but,  if  Burnet  may  be  trusted,  did  not  read  it.  Whoever  has 
seen  anything  of  public  business  knows  that  princes  and  minis- 
ters daily  sign,  and  indeed  must  sign,  documents  which  they 
have  not  read  ;  and  of  all  documents  a  document  relating  to  a 
small  tribe  of  mountaineers,  living  in  a  wilderness  not  set  down 
in  any  map,  was  least  likely  to  interest  a  Sovereign  whose 
mind  was  full  of  schemes  on  which  the  fate  of  Europe  might 
depend.*  But,  even  on  the  supposition  that  he  read  the  order 
to  which  he  affixed  his  name,  there  seems  to  be  no  reason  for 
blaming  him.  That  order,  directed  to  the  Commander  of  the 
Forces  in  Scotland,  runs  thus  :  "  As  for  Mac  Ian  of  Glencoe 
and  that  tribe,  if  they  can  be  well  distinguished  from  the  other 
Highlanders,  it  will  be  proper,  for  the  vindication  of  public 
justice,  to  extirpate  that  set  of  thieves."  These  words  naturally 
bear  a  sense  perfectly  innocent,  and  would,  but  for  the  horri- 
ble event  which  followed,  have  been  universally  understood  in 
that  sense.  It  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  first  duties  of  every 
government  to  extirpate  gangs  of  thieves.  This  does  not  mean 
that  every  thief  ought  to  be  treacherously  assassinated  in  his 
sleep,  or  even  that  every  thief  ought  to  be  put  to  death  after  a 
fair  trial,  but  that  every  gang,  as  a  gang,  ought  to  be  complete- 
ly broken  up,  and  that  whatever  severity  is  indispensably  ne- 
cessary for  that  end  ought  to  be  used.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  we 
praise  the  Marquess  of  Hastings  for  extirpating  the  Pindarees, 
and  Lord  William  Bentinck  for  extirpating  the  Thugs.  If  the 

*  Burnet,  ii.  89.  Burnet,  in  1693,  wrote  thus  about  William  :—"  He  suffers 
matters  to  run  till  there  is  a  great  heap  of  papers  ;  and  then  he  signs  them  as 
much  too  fast  as  he  was  before  too  slow  in  despatching  them."  Burnet  MS. 
Harl.  K81.  There  is  no  sign  either  of  procrastination  or  of  undue  haste  in  \Vil- 
li-im's  correspondence  with  Heinsius.  The  truth  is  that  the  King  understood  Con- 
tinental politics  thoroughly,  and  gave  his  whole,  mind  to  them.  To  English 
business  he  attended  less,  and  to  Scotch  business  least  of  all. 

VOL.  IV.— 19 


King  had  read  and  weighed  the  words  which  were  submitted 
to  him  by  his  Secretary,  he  would  probably  have  understood 
them  to  mean  that  Glencoe  was  to  be  occupied  by  troops,  that 
resistance,  if  resistance  were  attempted,  was  to  be  put  down 
with  a  strong  hand,  that  severe  punishment  was  to  be  inflicted 
on  those  leading  members  of  the  clan  who  could  be  proved  to 
have  been  guilty  of  great  crimes,  that  some  active  young  free- 
booters who  were  more  used  to  handle  the  broad  sword  than 
the  plough,  and  who  did  not  seem  likely  to  settle  down  into 
quiet  labourers,  were  to  be  sent  to  the  army  in  the  Low 
Countries,  that  others  were  to  be  transported  to  the  American 
plantations,  and  that  those  Macdonalds  who  were  suffered  to 
remain  in  their  native  valley  were  to  be  disarmed  and  required 
to  give  hostages  for  good  behaviour.  A  plan  very  nearly  re- 
sembling this  had,  we  know,  actually  been  the  subject  of  much 
discussion  in  the  political  circles  of  Edinburgh.*  There  can  be 
little  doubt  that  William  would  have  deserved  well  of  his 
people  if  he  had,  in  this  manner,  extirpated  not  only  the  tribe 
of  Mac  Ian,  but  every  Highland  tribe  whose  calling  was  to 
steal  cattle  and  burn  houses. 

The  extirpation  planned  by  the  Master  of  Stair  was'  of  a 
different  kind.  His  design  was  to  butcher  the  whole  race  of 
thieves,  the  whole  damnable  race.  Such  was  the  language  in 
which  his  hatred  vented  itself.  He  studied  the  geography  of 
the  wild  country  which  surrounded  Glencoe,  and  made  his  ar- 
rangements with  infernal  skill.  If  possible  the  blow  must  be 
quick,  and  crushing,  and  altogether  unexpected.  But  if  Mac 
Ian  should  apprehend  danger,  and  should  attempt  to  take  refuge 
in  the  territories  of  his  neighbours,  he  must  find  every  road 
barred.  The  pass  of  Rannoch  must  be  secured.  The  Laird 
of  Weem,  who  was  powerful  in  Strath  Tay,  must  be  told  that, 
if  he  harbours  the  outlaws,  he  does  so  at  his  peril.  Breadalbane 
promised  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the  fugitives  on  one  side, 
Mac  Callum  More  on  another.  It  was  fortunate,  the  Secretary 
wrote,  that  it  was  winter.  This  was  the  time  to  maul  the 
wretches.  The  nights  were  so  long,  the  mountain  tops  so  cold 

*  Impartial  Account,  1695. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  291 

and  stormy,  that  even  the  hardiest  men  could  not  long  bear  ex- 
posure to  the  open  air  without  a  roof  or  a  spark  of  fire.  That 
the  women  and  the  children  could  find  shelter  in  the  desert  was 
quite  impossible.  While  he  wrote  thus,  no  thought  that  he  was 
committing  a  great  wickedness  crossed  his  mind.  He  was  happy 
in  the  approbation  of  his  own  conscience.  Duty,  justice,  nay 
charity  and  mercy,  were  the  names  under  which  he  disguised  his 
cruelty  ;  nor  is  it  by  any  means  improbable  that  the  disguise  im- 
posed upon  himself.* 

Hill,  who  commanded  the  forces  assembled  at  Fort  William, 
was  not  entrusted  with  the  execution  of  the  design.  He  seems 
to  have  been  a  humane  man  ;  he  was  much  distressed  when  he 
learned  that  the  government  was  determined  on  severity  ;  and 
it  was  probably  thought  that  his  heart  might  fail  him  in  the  most 
critical  moment.  He  was  directed  to  put  a  strong  detachment 
under  the  orders  of  his  second  in  command,  Lieutenant  Colonel 
Hamilton.  To  Hamilton  a  significant  hint  was  conveyed  that 
he  had  now  an  excellent  opportunity  of  establishing  his  character 
in  the  estimation  of  those  who  were  at  the  head  of  affairs.  Of 
the  troops  entrusted  to  him  a  large  proportion  were  Campbells, 
and  belonged  to  a  regiment  lately  raised  by  Argyle,  and  called 
by  Argyle's  name.  It  was  probably  thought  that,  on  such  an 
occasion,  humanity  might  prove  too  strong  for  the  mere  habit  of 
military  obedience,  and  that  little  reliance  could  be  placed  on 
hearts  which  had  not  been  ulcerated  by  a  fe'  1  such  as  had  long 
raged  between  the  people  of  Mac  Ian  and  the  people  of  Mac 
Callum  More. 

Had  Hamilton  marched  openly  against  the  Glencoe  men  and 
put  them  to  the  edge  of  the  sword,  the  act  would  probably  not 
have  wanted  apologists,  and  most  certainly  would  not  have 
wanted  precedents.  But  the  Master  of  Stair  had  strongly  rec- 
ommended a  different  mode  of  proceeding.  If  the  least  alarm 
were  given,  the  nest  of  robbers  would  be  found  empty  ;  and  to 
hunt  them  down  in  so  wild  a  region  would,  even  with  all  the 
help  that  Breadalbane  and  Argyle  could  give,  be  a  long  and  dif- 

*  See  his  letters  quoted  in  the  Report  of  1695,  aad  iM  the  M««aoirs  of  the  Mas- 
sacre of  Gleiicoe. 


ficult  business.  "Better,"  he  wrote, "  not  meddle  with,  them 
than  meddle  to  no  purpose.  "When  the  thing  is  resolved  let  it 
be  secret  and  sudden."  *  He  was  obeyed ;  and  it  was  deter- 
mined that  the  Glencoe  men  should  perish,  not  by  military 
execution,  but  by  the  most  dastardly  and  perfidious  form  of 

On  the  first  of  February  a  hundred  and  twenty  soldiers  of 
Argyle'd  regiment,  commanded  by  a  captain  named  Campbell 
and  a  lieutenant  named  Lindsay,  marched  to  Glencoe.  Captain 
Campbell  was  commonly  called  in  Scotland  Glenlyori,  from  the 
pass  in  which  his  property  lay.  He  had  every  qualification  for 
the  service  on  which  he  was  employed,  an  unblushing  forehead, 
a  smooth  lying  tongue,  and  a  heart  of  adamant.  He  was  also 
one  of  the  few  Campbells  who  were  likely  to  be  trusted  and 
welcomed  by  the  Macdonalds  :  for  his  niece  was  married  to 
Alexander,  the  second  son  of  Mac  Ian. 

The  sight  of  the  red  coats  approaching  caused  some  anxiety 
among  the  population  of  the  valley.  John,  the  eldest  son  of  the 
Chief,  came,  accompanied  by  twenty  clansmen,  to  meet  the 
strangers,  and  asked  what  this  visit  meant.  Lieutenant  Lindsay 
answered  that  the  soldiers  came  as  friends,  and  wanted  nothing 
but  quarters.  They  were  kindly  received,  and  were  lodged  un- 
der the  thatched  roofs  of  the  little  community.  Glenlyon  and 
several  of  his  men  were  taken  into  the  house  of  a  tacksman  who 
was  named  from  the  cluster  of  cabins  over  which  he  exercised 
authority,  Inverriggen.  Lindsay  was  accommodated  nearer  to  the 
abode  of  the  old  chief.  Auchintriater,  one  of  the  principal  men 
of  the  clan,  who  governed  the  small  hamlet  of  Auchnaion,  found 
room  there  for  a  party  commanded  by  a  serjeant  named  Barbour. 
Provisions  were  liberally  supplied.  There  was  no  want  of  beef, 
which  had  probably  fattened  in  distant  pastures  :  nor  was  any 
payment  demanded  :  for  in  hospitality,  as  in  thievery,  the  Gaelic 
marauders  rivalled  the  Bedouins.  During  twelve  days  the  sol- 
diers lived  familiarly  with  the  people  of  the  glen.  Old  Mac 
Ian,  who  had  before  felt  many  misgivings  as  to  the  relation  in 
which  he  stood  to  the  government,  seems  to  have  been  pleased 

*  Report  of  1695. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  293 

with  the  visit.  The  officers  passed  much  of  their  time  with  him 
and  his  family.  The  long  evenings  were  cheerfully  spent  by 
the  peat  fire  with  the  help  of  some  packs  of  cards  which  had 
found  their  way  to  that  remote  corner  of  the  world,  and  of  some 
French  brandy  which  was  probably  part  of  James's  farewell  gift 
to  his  Highland  supporters.  Glenlyon  appeared  to  be  warmly  at- 
tached to  his  niece  and  her  husband  Alexander.  Every  day  he 
came  to  their  house  to  take  his  morning  draught.  Meanwhile  he 
observed  with  minute  attention  all  the  avenues  by  which,  when 
the  signal  for  the  slaughter  should  be  given,  the  Macdonakls 
might  attempt  to  escape  to  the  hills  ;  and  he  reported  the  result 
of  his  observations  to  Hamilton. 

Hamilton  fixed  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth 
of  February  for  the  deed.  He  hoped  that,  before  that  time,  he 
should  reach  Glencoe  with  four  hundred  men,  and  should  have 
stopped  all  the  earths  in  which  the  old  fox  and  his  two  cubs, — 
so  Mac  Ian  and  his  sons  were  nicknamed  by  the  murderers, — 
could  take  refuge.  But,  at  five  precisely,  whether  Hamilton 
had  arrived  or  not,  Glenlyon  was  to  fall  on  and  to  slay  every 
Macdonald  under  seventy. 

The  night  was  rough.  Hamilton  and  his  troops  made  slow 
progress,  and  were  long  after  their  time.  While  they  were  con- 
tending with  the  wind  and  snow,  Glenlyon  was  supping  and 
playing  at  cards  with  those  whom  he  meant  to  butcher  before 
daybreak.  He  and  Lieutenant  Lindsay  had  engaged  themselves 
to  dine  with  the  old  Chief  on  the  morrow. 

Late  in  the  evening  a  vague  suspicion  that  some  evil  was 
intended  crossed  the  mind  of  the  Chief's  eldest  son.  The  sol- 
diers were  evidently  in  a  restless  state  ;  and  some  of  them  ut- 
tered strange  exclamations.  Two  men,  it  is  said,  were  over- 
heard whispering.  "  I  do  not  like  this  job,"  one  of  them  mut- 
tered :  "  I  should  be  glad  to  fight  the  Macdonalds.  But  to  kill 
men  in  their  beds — "  "  "We  must  do  as  we  are  bid,"  answered 
another  voice.  "  If  there  is  anything  wrong,  our  officers  must 
answer  for  it."  John  Macdonald  was  so  uneasy  that,  soon  after 
midnight,  he  went  to  Glenlyon's  quarter.  Glenlyon  and  his 
men  were  all  up,  and  seemed  to  be  getting  their  arms  ready  for 


action.  John,  much  alarmed,  asked  what  these  preparations 
meant.  Glenlyon  was  profuse  of  friendly  assurances.  "  Some 
of  Glengarry's  people  have  been  harrying  the  country.  We  are 
getting  ready  to  march  against  them.  You  are  quite  safe.  Do  you 
think  that,  if  you  were  in  any  danger,  I  should  not  have  given 
a  hint  to  your  brother  Sandy  and  his  wile  ?  "  John's  suspicious 
were  quieted.  He  returned  to  his  house,  and  lay  down  to  rest. 

It  was  five  in  the  morning.  Hamilton  and  his  men  were  still 
some  miles  off ;  and  the  avenues  which  they  were  to  have  se- 
cured were  open.  But  the  orders  which  Glenlyon  had  received 
were  precise  ;  and  he  began  to  execute  them  at  the  little  villag) 
where  he  was  himself  quartered.  His  host  Inverriggen  and  nine 
other  Macdonalds  were  dragged  out  of  their  beds,  bound  hand 
and  foot,  and  murdered.  A  boy  twelve  years  old  clung  round 
the  Captain's  legs,  and  begged  hard  for  life.  He  would  do  any- 
thing :  he  would  go  anywhere  :  he  would  follow  Glenlyon 
round  the  world.  Even  Glenlyon,  it  is  said,  showed  signs  of 
relenting  ;  but  a  ruffian  named  Drummond  shot  the  child  dead. 

At  Auchnaion  the  tacksman  Auchiutriater  was  up  early  that 
morning,  and  was  sitting  with  eight  of  his  family  round  the  fire, 
when  a  volley  of  musketry  laid  him  and  seven  of  his  compan- 
ions dead  or  dying  on  the  floor.  His  brother,  who  alone  had 
escaped  unhurt,  called  to  Serjeant  Barbour,  who  commanded 
the  slayers,  and  asked  as  a  favour  to  be  allowed  to  die  in  the 
open  air.  "Well,"  said  the  Serjeant,  "  I  will  do  you  that  fa- 
vour for  the  sake  of  your  meat  which  I  have  eaten."  The  moun- 
taineer, bold,  athletic,  and  favoured  by  the  darkness,  came  forth, 
rushed  on  the  soldiers  who  were  about  to  level  their  pieces  at 
him,  flung  his  plaid  over  their  faces,  and  was  gone  in  a  moment. 
Meanwhile  Lindsay  had  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  old 
Chief  and  had  asked  for  admission  in  friendly  language.  The 
door  was  opened.  Mac  Ian,  while  putting  on  his  clothes  and 
calling  to  his  servants  to  bring  some  refreshment  for  his  visitors, 
was  shot  through  the  head.  Two  of  his  attendants  were  slain 
with  him.  His  wife  was  already  up  and  dressed  in  such  finery 
as  the  princesses  of  the  rude  Highland  glens  were  accustomed 
to  wear.  The  assassins  pulled  off.  her  clothes  and  trinkets. 

WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  295 

The  rings  were  not  easily  taken  from  her  fingers  :  but  a  soldier 
tore  them  away  with  his  teeth.  She  died  on  the  following  day. 
The  statesman,  to  whom  chiefly  this  great  crime  is  to  be  as- 
cribed, had  planned  it  with  consummate  ability  :  but  the  execu- 
tion was  complete  in  nothing  but  in  guilt  and  infamy.  A  suc- 
cession of  blunders  saved  three  fourths  of  the  Glencoe  men  from 
the  fate  of  their  chief.  All  the  moral  qualities  which  fit  men 
to  bear  a  part  in  a  massacre  Hamilton  and  Glenlyon  possessed 
in  perfection.  But  neither  seems  to  have  had  much  profes- 
sional skill.  Hamilton  had  arranged  his  plan  without  making 
allowance  for  bad  weather,  and  this  at  a  season  when,  in  the 
Highlands,  the  weather  was  very  likely  to  be  bad.  The  conse- 
quence was  that  the  fox  earths,  as  he  called  them,  were  not  stop- 
ped in  time.  Glenlyon  and  his  men  committed  the  error  of  des- 
patching their  hosts  with  firearms  instead  of  using  the  cold  steel. 
The  peal  and  flash  of  gun  after  gun  gave  notice,  from  three 
different  parts  of  the  valley  at  once,  that  murder  was  doing. 
From  fifty  cottages  the  half  naked  peasantry  fled  under  cover 
of  the  night  to  the  recesses  of  their  pathless  Glen.  Even  the 
sons  of  Mac  Ian,  who  had  been  especially  marked  out  for  de- 
struction, contrived  to  escape.  They  were  roused  from  sleep  by 
faithful  servants.  John,  who,  by  the  death  of  his  father,  had 
become  the  patriarch  of  the  tribe,  quitted  his  dwelling  just  as 
twenty  soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets  marched  up  to  it.  It  was 
broad  day  long  before  Hamilton  arrived.  He  found  the  work 
not  even  half  performed.  About  thirty  corpses  lay  wallowing 
in  blood  on  the  dunghills  before  the  doors.  One  or  two  women, 
were  seen  among  the  number,  and  a  yet  more  fearful  and  pite- 
ous sight,  a  little  hand,  which  had  been  lopped  in  the  tumult  of 
the  butchery  from  some  infant.  One  aged  Macdonald  was  found 
alive.  He  was  probably  too  infirm  to  fly,  and,  as  he  was  about 
seventy,  was  not  included  in  the  orders  under  which  Glenlyon 
had  acted.  Hamilton  murdered  the  old  man  in  cold  blood. 
The  deserted  hamlets  were  then  set  on  fire ;  and  the  troops  de- 
parted, driving  away  with  them  many  sheep  and  goats,  nine 
hundred  kine,  and  two  hundred  of  the  small  shaggy  ponies  of 
the  Highlands. 


It  is  said,  avd  may  but  too  easily  be  believed,  that  the  snf 
ferings  of  the  fugitives  were  terrible.  How  many  old  men,  how 
many  women  with  babes  in  their  arms,  sank  down  and  slept 
their  last  sleep  in  the  snow  ;  how  many,  having  crawled,  spent 
with  toil  and  hunger,  into  nooks  among  the  pr-ecipices,  died  in 
those  dark  holes,  and  were  picked  to  the  bone  by  the  mountain 
ravens,  can  never  be  known.  But  it  is  probable  that  those  who 
perished  by  cold,  weariness,  and  want  were  not  less  numerous 
than  those  who  were  slain  by  the  assassins.  When  the  troops 
had  retired,  the  Macdonalds  crept  out  of  the  caverns  of  Glencoe, 
ventured  back  to  the  spot  where  the  huts  had  formerly  stood, 
collected  the  scorched  corpses  from  among  the  smoking  ruins,  and 
performed  some  rude  rites  of  sepulture.  The  tradition  runs 
that  the  hereditary  bard  of  the  tribe  took  his  seat  on  a  rock 
which  overhung  the  place  of  slaughter,  and  poured  forth  a  long 
lament  over  his  murdered  brethren  and  his  desolate  home. 
Eighty  years  later  that  sad  dirge  was  still  repeated  by  the  pop- 
ulation of  the  valley.* 

The  survivors  might  well  apprehend  that  they  had  escaped 
the  shot  and  the  sword  only  to  perish  by  famine.  The  whole 
domain  was  a  waste.  Houses,  barns,  furniture,  implements  of 
husbandry,  herds,  flocks,  horses,  were  gone.  Many  months 
must  elapse  before  the  clan  would  be  able  to  raise  on  its  own 
ground  the  means  of  supporting  even  the  most  miserable  exist- 

*  Deposition  of  Ronald  Macdonald  in  the  Report  of  1695  ;  Letters  from  the 
Mountains,  May  17,  1773.  I  quote  Mrs.  Grant's  authority  only  for  what  she  her- 
self heard  and  saw.  Her  account  of  the  massacre  was  written  apparently  without 
the  assistance  of  books,  and  is  grossly  incorrect.  Indeed  she  makes  a  mistake  of 
two  years  as  to  the  date. 

.  t  I  have  taken  the  account  of  the  Massacre  of  Glencoe  chiefly  from  the  Report 
of  1095,  and  from  the  Gallienus  Redivivus.  An  unlearned,  and  indeed  a  learned, 
reader  may  he  at  a  loss  to  guess  why  the  Jacobites  should  have  selected  so  strange 
ii  title  for  a  pamphlet  on  the  massacre  of  Glencoe.  The  explanation  will  be  found 
in  a  letter  of  the  Emperor  Gallienus,  preserved  by  Trebellius  Pollio  in  the  Life 
of  Ingenuus.  Ingenuus  had  raised  a  rebellion  in  Moesia.  He  was  defeated  and 
killed.  Gallienns  ordered  the  whole  province  to  be  laid  waste,  and  wrote  to  one 
of  his  lieutenants  in  )anguage  to  which  that  of  the  Master  of  Stair  bore  but  too 
much  resemblance.  -'Kon  mihi  satisfacies  si  tantum  armatos  occideris,  quos  et 
fors  belli  interimere  potuisset.  Perimendusestomnis  sexus  virilis.  Occidendus 
est  fjuicunque  maledixit-  Occidendus  est  quicuiique  male  voluit.  Lacera.  De- 
cide. ConciJe." 


It  may  be  thought  strange  that  these  events  should  not  have 
been  instantly  followed  by  a  burst  of  execration  from  every  part 
of  the  civilised  world.  The  fact,  however,  is  that  years  elapsed 
before  the  public  indignation  was  thoroughly  awakened,  and  that 
months  elapsed  before  the  blackest  part  of  the  story  found  credit 
even  among  the  enemies  of  the  government.  That  the  massacre 
should  not  have  been  mentioned  in  the  London  Gazettes,  in  the 
Monthly  Mercuries,  which  were  scarcely  less  courtly  than  the 
Gazettes,  or  in  pamphlets  licensed  by  official  censors,  is  perfectly 
intelligible.  But  that  no  allusion  to  it  should  be  found  in  private 
journals  and  letters,  written  by  persons  free  from  all  restraint, 
may  seem  extraordinary.  There  is  not  a  word  on  the  subject 
in  Evelyn's  Diary.  In  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  is  a  remark- 
able entry  made  five  weeks  after  the  butchery.  The  letters 
from  Scotland,  he  says,  described  that  kingdom  as  perfectly 
tranquil,  except  that  there  was  still  some  grumbling  about 
ecclesiastical  questions.  The  Dutch  ministers  regularly  report- 
ed all  the  Scotch  news  to  their  government.  They  thought  it 
worth  while,  about  this  time,  to  mention  that  a  collier  had  been 
taken  by  a  privateer  near  Berwick,  that  the  Edinburgh  mail  had 
been  robbed,  that  a  whale,  with  a  tongue  seventeen  feet  long  and 
seven  feet  broad,  had  been  stranded  near  Aberdeen.  But  it  is  not 
hinted  in  any  of  their  despatches  that  there  was  any  rumour  of 
any  extraordinary  occurrence  in  the  Highlands.  Reports  that 
some  of  the  Macdonalds  had  been  slain  did  indeed,  in  about  three 
weeks,  travel  through  Edinburgh  up  to  London.  But  these  re- 
ports were  vague  and  contradictory  ;  and  the  very  worst  of 
them  was  far  from  coming  up  to  the  horrible  truth.  The  Whig 
version  of  the  story  was  that  the  old  robber  Mac  Ian  had  laid 
an  ambuscade  for  the  soldiers,  that  he  had  been  caught  in  his 
own  snare,  and  that  he  and  some  of  his  clan  had  fallen  sword  in 
hand.  The  Jacobite  version,  written  at  Edinburgh  on  the 
twenty-third  of  March,  appeared  in  the  Paris  Gazette  of  the 
seventh  of  April.  Glenlyon,  it  was  said,  had  been  sent  with  a 
detachment  from  Argyle's  regiment,  under  cover  of  darkness,  to 
surprise  the  inhabitants  of  Glencoe,  and  had  killed  thirty-six 


men  and  boys  and  four  women.*  In  this  there  was  nothing 
very  strange  or  shocking.  A  night  attack  on  a  gang  of  free- 
booters occupying  a  strong  natural  fortress  may  be  a  perfectly 
legitimate  military  operation  ;  and,  in  the  obscurity  and  confu- 
sion of  such  an  attack,  the  most  humane  man  may  be  so  un- 
fortunate as  to  shoot  a  woman  or  a  child.  The  circumstances 
which  give  a  peculiar  character  to  the  slaughter  of  Gleucoe, 
the  breach  of  faith,  the  breach  of  hospitality,  the  twelve  days 
of  feigned  friendship  and  conviviality,  of  morning  calls,  of 
social  meals,  of  healthdrinking,  of  card-playing,  were  not  men- 
tioned by  the  Edinburgh  correspondent  of  the  Paris  Gazette  ; 
and  we  may  therefore  confidently  infer  that  those  circumstances 
were  as  yet  unknown  even  to  inquisitive  and  busy  malecontents 
residing  in  the  Scottish  capital  within  a  hundred  miles  of  the 
spot  where  the  deed  had  been  done.  In  the  south  of  the  island 
the  matter  produced,  as  far  as  can  now  be  judged,  scarcely  any 
sensation.  To  the  Londoner  of  those  days  Appin  was  what 
Caffraria  or  Borneo  is  to  us.  He  was  not  more  moved  by  hear- 
ing that  some  Highland  thieves  had  been  surprised  and  killed 
than  we  are  by  hearing  that  a  band  of  Amakosah  cattle  stealers 
has  been  cut  off,  or  that  a  bark  full  of  Malay  pirates  has  been 
sunk.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  nothing  had  been  done  in 
Glencoe  beyond  what  was  doing  in  many  other  glens.  There 
might  have  been  violence  ;  but  it  had  been  in  a  land  of  violence. 
There  had  been  a  night  brawl,  one  of  a  hundred  night  brawls, 
between  the  Macdoualds  and  the  Campbells  ;  and  the  Camp- 
bells had  knocked  the  Macdonalds  on  the  head. 

By  slow  degrees  the  whole  came  out.  From  a  letter  writ- 
ten at  Edinburgh  before  the  end  of  April,  it  appears  that  the 
true  story  was  already  current  among  the  Jacobites  of  that  city. 
In  the  summer  Argyle's  regiment  was  quartered  in  the  south  of 
England,  and  some  of  the  men  made  strange  confessions,  over 
their  ale,  about  what  they  had  been  forced  to  do  in  the  preced- 
ing winter.  The  non jurors  soon  got  hold  of  the  clue,  and  fol- 
lowed it  resolutely  :  their  secret  presses  went  to  work  ;  and  at 

*  "What  I  have  called  the  Whig  version  of  the  story  is  given,  as  well  as  the 
Jacobite  version,  iu  the  Paris  Gazette  of  April  7, 1692. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  299 

length,  near  a  year  after  the  crime  had  been  committed,  it  was 
published  to  the  world.*  But  the  world  was  long  incredulous. 
The  habitual  mendacity  of  the  Jacobite  libellers  had  brought 
on  them  an  appropriate  punishment.  Now,  when,  for  the  first 
time,  they  told  the  truth,  .they  were  supposed  to  be  romancing. 
They  complained  bitterly  that  the  story,  though  perfectly  au-. 
thentic,  was  regarded  by  the  public  as  a  factious  lie.f  So  late 
as  the  year  1695,  Hickes,  in  a  tract  in  which  he  endeavoured  to 
defend  his  darling  tale  of  the  Theban  legion  against  the  un- 
answerable argument  drawn  from  the  silence  of  historians,  re- 
marked that  it  might  well  be  doubted  whether  any  historian 
would  make  mention  of  *  the  massacre  of  Glencoe.  There  were 
in  England,  he  said,  many  thousands  of  well  educated  men  who 
had  never  heard  of  that  massacre,  or  who  regarded  it  as  a  mere 
fable.  J 

Nevertheless  the  punishment  of  some  of  the  guilty  began 
very  early.  Hill,  who  indeed  can  scarcely  be  called  guilty, 
was  much  disturbed.  Breadalbane,  hardened  as  he  was,  felt 
the  stings  of  conscience  or  the  dread  of  retribution.  A  few 
days  after  the  Macdonalds  had  returned  to  their  old  dwelling- 
place,  his  steward  visited  the  ruins  of  the  house  of  Glencoe, 
and  endeavoured  to  persuade  the  sons  of  the  murdered  chief  to 
sign  a  paper  declaring  that  they  held  the  Earl  guiltless  of  the 
blood  which  had  been  shed.  They  were  assured  that,  if  they 
would  do  this,  all  His  Lordship's  great  influence  should  be  em- 
ployed to  obtain  for  them  from  the  Crown  a  free  pardon  and  a 
remission  of  all  forfeitures  §  Glenlyon  did  his  best  to  assume 
an  air  of  unconcern.  He  made  his  appearance  in  the  most 
fashionable  coffeehouse  at  Edinburgh,  and  talked  loudly  and 
selfcomplacently  about  the  important  service  in  which  he  had 

*  I  believe  that  the  circumstances  which  give  so  peculiar  a  character  of  atrocity 
to  the  Massacre  of  Glencoe  were  first  published  in  print  by  Charles  Leslie  in  the 
Appendix  to  his  answer  to  King.  The  date  of  Leslie's  answer  is  1692.  But  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  date  of  1692  was  then  used  down  to  what  we  should 
call  the  25th  of  Marvh  1693.  Leslie's  book  contains  some  remarks  on  a  sermon  by 
Tillotson  which  was  not  printed  till  November  1692.  The  Gallienus  Kedivivus 
speedily  followed. 

t  Gallienus  Eedivivus.  t  Hickes  on  Burnet  and  Tillotson,  1695. 

§  Report  of  1695. 


been  engaged  among  the  mountains.  Some  of  his  soldiers, 
however,  who  observed  him  closely,  whispered  that  all  this 
bravery  was  put  on.  He  was  not  the  man  that  he  had  been  be- 
fore that  night.  The  form  of  his  countenance  was  changed.  In 
all  places,  at  all  hours,  whether  he  waked  or  slept,  Glencoe  was 
•ever  before  him.* 

But,  whatever  apprehensions  might  disturb  Breadalbane, 
whatever  spectres  might  haunt  Glenlyon,  the  Master  of  Stair 
had  neither  fear  nor  remorse.  He  was  indeed  mortified  :  but 
he  was  mortified  only  by  the  blunders  of  Hamilton  and  by  the 
escape  of  so  many  of  the  damnable  breed.  "  Do  right,  and  fear 
nobody  ;  "  such  is  the  language  of  his  letters.  "  Can  there  be  a 
more  sacred  duty  than  to  rid  the  country  of  thieving  ?  The  only 
thing  that  I  regret  is  that  any  got  away."  f 

On  the  sixth  of  March,  William,  entirely  ignorant,  in  all 
probability,  of  the  details  of  the  crime  which  has  cast  a  dark 
shade  over  his  glory,  had  set  out  for  the  Continent,  leaving  the 
Queen  his  vicegerent  in  England.:}: 

lie  would  perhaps  have  postponed  his  departure  if  he  had 
been  aware  that  the  French  Government  had,  during  some  time, 
been  making  great  preparations  for  a  descent  on  our  island.  § 
An  event  had  taken  place  which  had  changed  the  policy  of  the 
court  of  Versailles.  Louvois  was  no  more.  He  had  been  at 
the  head  of  the  military  administration  of  his  country  during  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ;  he  had  borne  a  chief  part  in  the  direction 
of  two  wars  which  had  enlarged  the  French  territory,  and  had 
filled  the  world  with  the  renown  of  the  French  arms,  and  he 
had  lived  to  see  the  beginning  of  a  third  war  which  tasked  his 
great  powers  to  the  utmost.  Between  him  and  the  celebrated 

*  Gallienus  Redivtvus.  t  Report  of  1695. 

t  London  Gazette,  Mar.  7,  1691-2. 

§  Burnet  (ii.  93,)  says  that  the  King  was  not  at  this  time  informed  of  the  in- 
tentions of  the  French  Government.  Ralph  contradicts  Burnet  with  great  as- 
perity. But  that  Burnet  was  in  the  right  is  proved  beyond  dispute  by  William's 

correspondence  with  Heinsius.  So  late  as  "  '  William  wrote  thus  :  "  Je  ne 
puis  vous  dissimuler  que  je  commence  a  apprehender  une  descente  en  Angleterre, 
quoique  je  n'aye  pu  le  croire  d'abord  :  mais  les  avis  sont  si  multiplies  de  tous  les 
cotes,  et  accompagnes  de  tantde  particulars  t£s  qu'il  n'estplus  guere  possible  d'eu 
douter."  I  quote  from  the  French  translation  among  the  Mackintosh  MSS. 

"WILLIAM    AND    MARY.  301 

captains  \vlio  carried  his  plans  into  execution  there  was  little 
harmony.  His  imperious  temper  and  his  confidence  in  himself 
impelled  him  t<3  interfere  too  much  with  the  conduct  of  troops 
in  the  field,  even  when  those  troops  were  commanded  by  Conde, 
by  Turenne,  or  by  Luxemburg.  •  But  he  was  the  greatest 
Adjutant  General,  the  greatest  Quartermaster  General,  the 
greatest  Commissary  General,  that  Europe  had  seen.  He 
may  indeed  be  said  to  have  made  a  revolution  in  the  art  of  dis- 
ciplining, distributing,  equipping,  and  provisioning  armies.  In 
spite,  however,  of  his  abilities  and  of  his  services,  he  had  become 
odious  to  Lewis  and  to  her  who  governed  Lewis.  On  the  last 
occasion  on  which  the  King  and  the  minister  transacted  business 
together,  the  ill  humour  on  both  sides  broke  violently  forth. 
The  servant,  in  his  vexation,  dashed  his  portfolio  on  the  ground. 
The  master,  forgetting,  what  he  seldom  forgot,  that  a  king 
should  be  a  gentleman,  lifted  his  cane.  Fortunately  his  wife 
was  present.  She,  with  her  usual  prudence,  caught  his  arm. 
She  then  got  Louvois  out  of  the  room,  and  exhorted  him  to 
come  back  the  next  day  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  The  next 
day  he  came,  but  with  death  in  his  face.  The  King,  though 
full  of  resentment,  was  touched  with  pity,  and  advised  Louvois 
to  go  home  and  take  care  of  himself.  That  evening  the  great 
minister  died.* 

Louvois  had  constantly  opposed  all  plans  for  the  invasion 
of  England.  His  death  was  therefore  regarded  at  Saint  Ger- 
mains  as  a  fortunate  event.f  It  was  however  necessary  to  look 
sad,  and  to  send  a  gentleman  to  Versailles  with  some  words  of 
condolence.  The  messenger  found  the  gorgeous  circle  of 
courtiers  assembled  round  their  master  on  the  terrace  above  the 
orangery.  "  Sir,"  said  Lewis,  in  a  tone  so  easy  and  cheerful 
that  it  filled  all  the  bystanders  with  amazement,  "  present  my 
compliments  and  thanks  to  the  King  and  Queen  of  England, 
and  tell  them  that  neither  my  affairs  no"r  theirs  will  go  on  the 
worse  for  what  has  happened."  These  words  were  doubtless 

*  Bur-net,  ii.  95,  and  Onslow's  note ;  Memoires  de  Saint  Simon  ;  Journal  de 

t  Life  of  James,  ii.  411, 412. 


meant  to  intimate  that  the  influence  of  Louvois  had  not  been 
exerted  in  favour  of  the  House  of  Stuart.*  One  compliment, 
however,  a  compliment  which  cost  France  dear,' Lewis  thought 
it  right  to  pay  to  the  memory  of  his  ablest  servant.  The  Mar- 
quess of  Barbesieux,  sou  of  Louvois,  was  placed,  in  his  twenty- 
fifth  year,  at  the  head  of  the  war  department.  The  young  man 
was  by  no  means  deficient  in  abilities,  and  had  been,  during  some 
years,  employed  in  business  of  grave  importance.  But  his  pas- 
sions were  strong:  his  judgment  was  not  ripe;  and  his  sudden 
elevation  turned  his  head.  His  manners  gave  general  disgust. 
Old  officers  complained  that  he  kept  them  long  in  his  ante- 
chamber while  he  was  amusing  himself  with  his  spaniels  and  his 
flatterers.  Those  who  were  admitted  to  his  presence  went  away 
disgusted  by  his  rudeness  and  arrogance.  As  was  natural  at 
his  age,  he  valued  power  chiefly  as  the  means  of  procuring 
pleasure.  Millions  of  crowns  were  expended  on  the  luxurious 
villa  where  he  loved  to  forget  the  cares  of  office  in  gay  conver- 
sation, delicate  cookery,  and  foaming  Champagne.  He  often 
pleaded  an  attack  of  fever  as  an  excuse  for  not  making  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  proper  hour  in  the  royal  closet,  when  in  truth 
he  had  been  playing  truant  amqpg  his  boon  companions  and 
mistresses.  "  The  French  King,"  said  William,  "  has  an  odd 
taste.  He  chooses  an  old  woman  for  his  mistress,  and  a  young 
man  for  his  minister."  f 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Louvois,  by  pursuing  that 
course  which  had  made  him  odious  to  the  inmates  of  Saint 
Germains,  had  deserved  wlel  of  his  country.  He  was  not  mad- 
dened by  Jacobite  enthasiasm.  He  well  knew  that  exiles  are 
the  worst  of  all  dvaisers.  He  had  excellent  information  :  he 
had  excellent  judgment:  he  calculated  the  chances;  and  he 
saw  that  a  descent  was  likely  to  fail,  and  to  fail  disastrously 
and  disgracefully.  James  might  well  be  impatient  to  try  the 

*  Me'moires  de  Dangeau  ;  Me'moires  de  Saint  Simon.  Saint  Simon  was  on  the 
terrace,  and,  young  as  he  was,  observed  this  singular  scene  with  an  eye  which 
nothing  escaped. 

t  Memoires  de  Saint  Simon  ;  Burnet,  ii.  95  ;  Guardian,  No.  48.  See  the  excel- 
lent letter  of  Lewis  to  the  Archbishop  of  Itheims,  which  is  quoted  by  Voltaire  in 
the  Siecle  de  Louis  XIV. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  303 

experiment,  though  the  odds  should  be  ten  to  one  against  him. 
He  might  gain  ;  and  he  could  not  lose.  His  folly  and  obstinacy 
had  left  him  nothing  to  risk.  His  food,  his  drink,  his  lodging, 
his  clothes,  he  owed  to  charity.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural 
than  that,  for  the  very  smallest  chance  of  recovering  the  three 
kingdoms  which  he  had  thrown  away,  he  should  be  willing  to 
stake  what  was  not  his  own,  the  honour  of  the  French  arms, 
the  grandeur  and  the  safety  of  the  French  monarchy.  To  a 
French  statesman  such  a  wager  might  well  appear  in  a  different 
light.  But  Louvois  was  gone.  His  master  yielded  to  the  im- 
portunity of  James,  and  determined  to  send  an  expedition 
against  England.* 

The  scheme  was,  in  some  respects,  well  concerted.  It  was 
resolved  that  a  camp  should  be  formed  on  the  coast  of  Normandy, 
and  that  in  this  camp  all  the  Irish  regiments  which  were  in  the 
French  service  should  be  assembled  under  their  countryman 
Sarsfield.  With  them  were  to  be  joined  about  ten  thousand 
French  troops.  The  whole  army  was  to  be  commanded  by 
Marshal  Bellefonds. 

A  noble  fleet  of  about  eighty  ships  of  the  line  was  to  con- 
voy this  force  to  the  shores  of  England.  In  the  dockyards 
both  of  Britanny  and  of  Provence  immense  preparations  were 
made.  Four  and  forty  men  of  war,  some  of  which  were  among 
the  finest  that  had  ever  been  built,  were  assembled  in  the  har- 
bour of  Brest  under  Tourville.  The  Count  of  Estrees,  with 
thirty-five  more,  was  to  sail  from  Toulon.  Ushant  was  fixed 
for  the  place  of  rendezvous.  The  very  day  was  named.  In 
order  that  there  might  be  no  want  either  of  seamen  or  of  vessels 
for  the  intended  expedition,  all  maritime  trade,  all  privateering 
was,  for  a  time,  interdicted  by  a  royal  mandate. f  Three  hun- 
dred transports  were  collected  near  the  spot  where  the  troops 
were  to  embark.  It  was  hoped  that  all  would  be  ready  early  in  the 
spring,  before  the  English  ships  were  half  rigged  or  half  man- 
ned, and  before  a  single  Dutch  man  of  war  was  in  the  Channel. f 

*  In  the  Nairne  Papers  printed  by  Macpherson  are  two  memorials  from  James 
urging  Lewis  to  invade  England.    Both  were  written  in  January  1692. 
t  London  Gazette,  Feb.  15,  1691-2. 
t  Memoires  de  Berwick,  Burnet,  ii.  92  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  478, 491. 


James  had  indeed  persuaded  himself  that,  even  if  the 
English  fleet  should  fall  in  with  him,  it  would  not  oppose  him. 
He  imagined  that  he  was  personally  a  favourite  with  the  mari- 
ners of  all  ranks.  His  emissaries  had  been  busy  among  the 
naval  officers,  arid  had  found  some  who  remembered  him  with 
kindness,  and  others  who  were  out  of  humour  with  the  men  now 
in  power.  All  the  wild  talk  of  a  class  of  people  not  distinguished 
by  taciturnity  or  discretion  was  reported  to  him  with  exaggera- 
tion, till  he  was  deluded  into  a  belief  that  he  had  more  friends 
than  enemies  on  board  of  the  vessels  which  guarded  our  coasts. 
Yet  he  should  have  known  that  a  rough  sailor,  who  thought 
himself  ill  used  by  the  Admiralty,  might,  after  the  third  bottle, 
when  drawn  on  by  artful  companions,  express  his  regret  for  the 
good  old  time,  curse  the  new  government,  and  curse  himself  for 
being  such  a  fool  as  to  fight  for  that  government,  and  yet  might 
be  by  no  means  prepared  to  go  over  to  the  French  on  the  day 
of  battle.  Of  the  malecontent  officers,  who,  as  James  believed, 
were  impatient  to  desert,  the  great  majority  had  probably  given 
no  pledge  of  their  attachment  to  him  except  an  idle  word  hic- 
coughed out  when  they  were  drank,  and  forgotten  when  they 
were  sober.  One  of  those  from  whom  he  expected  support, 
Rear  Admiral  Carter,  had  indeed  heard  and  perfectly  under- 
stood what  the  Jacobite  agents  had  to  say,  had  given  them  fair 
words,  and  had  reported  the  whole  to  the  Queen  arid  her  minis- 

But  the  chief  dependence  of  James  was  on  Russell.  That 
false,  arrogant,  and  wayward  politician  was  to  command  the 
Channel  Fleet.  He  had  never  ceased  to  assure  the  Jacobite 
emissaries  that  he  was  bent  on  effecting  a  Restoration.  Those 
emissaries  fully  reckoned,  if  not  on  his  entire  cooperation, yet  at 
least  on  his  connivance ;  and  there  could  be  no  doubt  that,  with 
his  connivance,  a  French  fleet  might  easily  convey  an  army  to 
our  shores.  James  flattered  himself  that,  as  soon  as  he  had 
landed,  he  should  be  master  of  the  island.  But  in  truth,  when 
the  voyage  had  ended  the  difficulties  of  his  enterprise  would 
have  been  only  beginning.  Two  years  before  he  had  received  a 

*  History  of  the  late  Conspiracy,  1603. 


lesson  by  which  he  should  have  profited.  Pie  had  then  deceived 
himself  and  others  into  the  belief  that  the  English  were  regret- 
ting him,  were  pining  for  him,  were  eager  to  rise  in  arms  by 
tens  of  thousands  to  welcome  him.  William  was  then,  as  now, 
at  a  distance.  Then,  as  now,  the  administration  was  entrusted 
to  a  woman.  There  were  fcben  fewer  regular  troops  in  England 
than  now.  Torrington  had  then  done  as  much  to  injure  the 
government  which  he  served  as  Russell  could  now  do.  The 
French  fleet  had  then,  after  riding  during  several  weeks,  victori- 
ous and  dominant  in  the  Channel,  landed  some  troops  on  the 
southern  coast.  The  immediate  effect  had  been  that  whole 
counties,  without  distinction  of  Tory  or  Whig,  Churchman  of 
Dissenter,  had  risen  up,  as  one  man,  to  repel  the  foreigners,  and 
that  the  Jacobite  party,  which  had,  a  few  days  before,  seemed  to 
be  half  the  nation,  had  crouched  down  in  silent  terror,  and  had 
made  itself  so  small  that  it  had,  during  some  time,  been  invisible. 
What  reason  was  there  for  believing  that  the  multitudes  who 
had,  in  1690,  at  the  first  lighting  of  the  beacons,  snatched  up 
firelocks,  pikes,  scythes,  to  defend  their  native  soil  against  the 
French,  would  now  welcome  the  French  as  allies  ?  And  of  the 
army  by  which  James  was  now  to  be  accompanied  the  French 
formed  the  least  odious  part.  More  than  half  of  that  army  was 
to  consist  of  Irish  Papists  ;  and  the  feeling,  compounded  of 
hatred  and  scorn,  with  which  the  Irish  Papists  had  long  been 
regarded  by  the  English  Protestants,  had  by  recent  events  been 
stimulated  to  a  vehemence  before  unknown.  The  hereditary 
slaves,  it  was  said,  had  been  for  a  moment  free  ;  and  that  mo- 
ment had  sufficed  to  prove  that  they  knew  neither  how  to  use  nor 
how  to  defend  their  freedom.  During  their  short  ascendency 
they  had  done  nothing  but  slay,  and  burn,  and  pillage,  and  de- 
molish, and  attaint,  and  confiscate.  In  three  years  they  had 
committed  such  waste  on  their  native  land  as  thirty  years  of 
English  intelligence  and  industry  would  scarcely  repair.  They 
would  have  maintained  their  independence  against  the  world,  if 
they  had  been  ns  ready  to  fight  as  they  were  to  steal.  But  they 
had  retreated  ignominiously  from  the  walls  of  Londonderry. 
They  had  fled  like  rleor  before  the  yeomanry  of  Enniskiiien. 
VOL.  IV.— 2 J 


The  Prince  whom  they  now  presumed  to  think  that  they  could 
place,  by  force  of  arms,  on  the  English  throne,  had  himself,  on 
the  morning  after  the  rout  of  the  Boyne,  reproached  them  with 
their  cowardice,  and  told  them  that  he  would  never  again  trust 
to  their  soldiership.  On  this  subject  Englishmen  were  of  one 
mind.  Tories,  Nonjurors,  even  Roman  Catholics,  were  as  loud 
as  Whigs  in  reviling  the  ill-fated  race.  It  is,  therefore,  not 
difficult  to  guess  what  effect  would  have  been  produced  by  the 
appearance  on  our  soil  of  enemies  whom,  on  their  own  soil,  we 
had  vanquished  and  trampled  down. 

James,  however,  in  spite  of  the  recent  and  severe  teaching 
of  experience,  believed  whatever  his  correspondents  in  England 
told  him ;  and  they  told  him  that  the  whole  nation  was  impa- 
tiently expecting  him,  that  both  the  West  and  the  North  were 
ready  to  rise,  that  he  would  proceed  from  the  place  of  landing  to 
Whitehall  with  as  little  opposition  as  he  had  encountered  when, 
in  old  times,  he  made  a  progress  through  his  kingdom,  escorted, 
by  long  cavalcades  of  gentlemen,  from  One  lordly  mansion  to 
another.  Ferguson  distinguished  himself  by  the  confidence  with 
which  he  predicted  a  complete  and  bloodless  victory.  He  and 
his  printer,  he  was  absurd  enough  to  write,  would  be  the  two 
first  men  in  the  realm  to  take  horse  for  His  Majesty.  Many 
other  agents  were  busy,  up  and  down  the  country,  during  the 
winter  anrl  the  early  part  of  the  spring.  It  does  not  appear 
that  they  had  much  success  in  the  counties  south  of  Trent.  But 
in  the  north,  particularly  in  Lancashire,  where  the  Roman 
Catholics  were  more  numerous  and  more  powerful  than  in  any 
other  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  where  there  seems  to  have  been 
even  among  the  Protestant  gentry,  more  than  the  ordinary  pro- 
portion of  bigoted  Jacobites,  some  preparations  for  an  insurrec- 
tion were  made.  Arms  were  privately  bought :  officers  were 
appointed  :  yeomen,  small  farmers,  grooms,  huntsmen,  were  in- 
duced to  enlist.  Those  who  gave  in  their  names  were  distrib- 
uted into  eight  regiments  of  cavalry  and  dragoons,  and  were 
directed  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  mount  at  the  first 

*  Life  of  James,  ii.  479,  524.    Memorials  furnished  by  Ferguson  to  Holmes  in 
tlie  Kalrue  Papers. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  307 

One  of  the  circumstances  which  filled  James,  at  this  time, 
with  vain  hopes,  was  that  his  wife  was  pregnant  and  near  her 
delivery.  He  flattered  himself  that  malice  itself  would  be 
ashamed  to  repeat  any  longer  the  story  of  the  warming  pan, 
and  that  multitudes  whom  that  story  had  deceived  would  instantly 
return  to  their  allegiance.  He  took,  on  this  occasion,  all  those 
precautions,  which,  four  years  before,  he  had  foolishly  and  per- 
versely forborne  to  take.  He  contrived  to  transmit  to  England 
letters  summoning  many  Protestant  women  of  quality  to  assist 
at  the  expected  birth  ;  and  he  promised,  in  the  name  of  his 
dear  brother  the  Most  Christian  King,  that  they  should  be  free 
t'o  come  and  go  in  safety.  Had  some  of  those  witnesses  been 
invited  to  Saint  James's  on  the  morning  of  the  tenth  of  June 
1688,  the  House  of  Stuart  might,  perhaps,  now  be  reigning  in 
our  island.  But  it  is  easier  to  keep  a  crown  than  to  regain  one. 
It  might  be  true  that  a  calumnious  fable  had  done  much  to 
bring  about  the  Revolution.  But  it  by  no  means  followed  that 
the  most  complete  refutation  of  that  fable  would  bring  about  a 
Restoration.  Not  a  single  lady  crossed  the  sea  in  obedience  to 
James's  call.  His  Queen  was  safely  delivered  of  a  daughter ; 
but  this  event  produced  no  perceptible  effect  on  the  state  of 
public  feeling  in  England.* 

Meanwhile  the  preparations  for  his  expedition  were  going 
on  fast.  He  was  on  the  point  of  setting  out  for  the  place  of 
embarkation  before  the  English  government  was  at  all  aware 
of  the  danger  which  was  impending.  It  had  been  long  known 
indeed  that  many  thousands  of  Irish  were  assembling  in  Nor- 
mandy :  but  it  was  supposed  that  they  had  been  assembled 
merely  that  they  might  be  mustered  and  drilled  before  they 
were  sent  to  Flanders,  Piedmont,  and  Catalonia. f  Now,  how- 
ever, intelligence,  arriving  from  many  quarters,  left  no  doubt 
that  an  invasion  would  be  almost  immediately  attempted.  Vig- 
orous preparations  for  defence  were  made.  The  equipping  and 
manning  of  the  ships  was  urged  forward  with  vigour.  The 
regular  troops  were  drawn  together  between  London  and  the 

«  Life  of  James,  ii.  474. 

t  See  the  Monthly  Mercuries  of  the  spring  of  1692. 


Channel.  A  great  camp  was  formed  on  the  down  which  over- 
looks Portsmouth.  The  militia  all  over  the  kingdom  was  called 
out.  Two  Westminster  regiments  and  six  City  regiments,  mak- 
ing up  a  force  of  thirteen  thousand  righting  men,  were  arrayed 
in  Hyde  Park,  and  passed  in  review  before  the  Queen.  The 
trainbands  of  Kent,  Sussex,  and  Surrey  marched  down  to  the 
coast.  Watchmen  were  posted  by  the  beacons.  Some  non jurors 
were  imprisoned,  some  disarmed,  some  held  to  bail.  The  house 
of  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  a  noted  Jacobite,  was  searched.  He 
had  had  time  to  burn  his  papers  and  to  hide  his  arms  :  but  his 
stables  presented  a  most  suspicious  appearance.  Horses  enough 
to  mount  a  whole  troop  of  cavalry  were  at  the  mangers  :  and 
this  circumstance,  though  not  legally  sufficient  to  support  a  charge 
of  treason,  was  thought  sufficient,  at  such  a  conjuncture,  to  justify 
the  Privy  Council  in  sending  him  to  the  Tower.* 

Meanwhile  James  had  gone  down  to  his  army,  which  was 
encamped  round  the  basin  of  La  Hogue,  on  the  northern  coast 
of  the  peninsula  known  by  the  name  of  the  Cotentin.  Before 
he  quitted  Saint  Germains,  he  held  a  Chapter  of  the  Garter  for 
the  purpose  of  admitting  his  son  into  the  order.  Two  noblemen 
were  honoured  with  the  same  distinction,  Powis,  who,  among 
his  brother  exiles,  was  now  called  a  Duke,  and  Melfort,  who 
had  returned  from  Rome,  and  was  again  James's  Prime  Minis- 
ter, f  Even  at  this  moment,  when  it  was  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance to  conciliate  the  sons  of  the  Church  of  England,  none 
but  sons  of  the  Church  of  Rome  were  thought  worthy  of  any 
mark  of  royal  favour.  Powis  indeed  might  be  thought  to  have 
a  fair  claim  to  the  Garter.  He  was  an  eminent  member  of  the 
English  aristocracy  ;  and  his  countrymen  disliked  him  as  little 
as  they  disliked  any  conspicuous  Papist.  But  Melfort  was  not 
even  an  Englishman :  he  had  never  held  office  in  England  :  he 
had  never  sate  in  the  English  Parliament ;  and  he  had  there- 
fore no  pretensions  to  a  decoration  peculiarly  English.  He  was 
moreover  hated  by  all  the  contending  factions  of  all  the  three 
kingdoms.  Royal  letters  countersigned  by  him  had  been  sent 

*  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  for  April  and  May  1692  ;  London  Gazette,  May  9, 
and  12.  t  Sheridan  MS.  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  492. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  309 

both  to  the  Convention  at  Westminster  and  to  the  Convention 
at  Edinburgh  ;  and  both  at  Westminster  and  at  Edinburgh  the 
sight  of  his  odious  name  and  handwriting  had  made  the  most 
zealous  friends  of  hereditary  right  hang  down  their  heads  in 
shame.  It  seems  strange  that  even  James  should  have  chosen, 
at  such  a  conjuncture,  to  proclaim  to  the  world  that  the  men 
whom  his  people  most  abhorred  were  the  men  whom  he  most 
delighted  to  honour. 

Still  more  strange  seems  the  Declaration  in  which  he  an- 
nounced his  intentions  to  his  subjects.  Of  all  the  State  papers 
which  were  put  forth  even  by  him  it  was  the  most  elaborately 
and  ostentatiously  injudicious.  When  it  had  disgusted  and  ex- 
asperated all  good  Englishmen  of  all  parties,  the  Papists  at 
Saint  Germains  pretended  that  it  had  been  drawn  up  by  a 
stanch  Protestant,  Edward  Herbert,  who  had  been  Chief  Justice, 
of  the  Common  Pleas  be  tore  the  Revolution,  and  who  now  bore 
the  empty  title  of  Chancellor.*  But  it  is  certain  that  Herbert 
was  never  consulted  about  any  matter  of  importance,  and  that 
the  Declaration  was  the  work  of  Melfort  and  of  Mel  fort  alone.f 
In  truth,  those  qualities  of  head  and  heart  which  had  made  Mel- 
fort  the  favourite  of  his  master  shone  forth  in  every  sentence. 
Not  a  word  was  to  be  found  indicating  that  three  years  of  ban- 
ishment had  made  the  King  wiser,  that  he  had  repented  of  a 
single  error,  that  he  took  to  himself  even  the  smallest  part  of 
the  blame  of  that  revolution  which  had  dethroned  him,  or  that 
he  purposed  to  follow  a  course  in  any  respect  differing  from  that 
which  had  already  been  fatal  to  him.  All  the  charges  which 
had  been  brougnt  against  him  he  pronounced  to  be  utterly  un- 
founded. Wicked  men  had  put  forth  calumnies.  Weak  men 
had  believed  those  calumnies.  He  alone  had  been  faultless. 
He  held  out  no  hope  that  he  would  consent  to  any  restriction 
of  that  vast  dispensing  power  to  which  he  had  formerly  laid 
claim,  that  he  would  not  again,  in  defiance  of  the  plainest  stat- 
utes, fill  the  Privy  Council,  the  bench  of  justice,  the  public 

*  Life  of  Jamea,  ii.  488. 

t  James  told  Sheridan  that  the  Declaration  was  written  by  Melfort.    Sheri- 
dan MS. 


offices,  the  army,  the  navy,  with  Papists,  that  he  would  not 
reestablish  the  High  Commission,  that  he  would  not  appoint  a 
new  set  of  regulators  to  remodel  all  the  constituent  bodies  of 
the  kingdom.  He  did  indeed  condescend  to  say  that  he  would 
maintain  the  legal  rights  of  the  Church  of  England :  but  he 
had  said  this  before  ;  and  all  men  knew  what  those  words  meant 
in  his  mouth.  Instead  of  assuring  his  people  of  his  forgiveness, 
he  menaced  them  with  a  butchery  more  terrible  than  any  that 
our  island  had  ever  seen.  He  published  a  long  list  of  persons 
who  had  no  mercy  to  expect.  Among  these  were  Ormond, 
Caermarthen,  Nottingham,  Tillotson  and  Burnet.  After  the 
roll  of  those  who  were  proscribed  by  name,  came  a  series  of 
categories.  First  stood  all  the  crowd  of  rustics  who  had  been 
rude  to  James  when  he  was  stopped  at  Sheerness  in  his  flight. 
These  poor  ignorant  wretches,  some  hundreds  in  number,  were 
reserved  for  another  bloody  circuit.  Then  His  Majesty,  in 
open  defiance  of  the  law  of  the  land,  proceeded  to  doom  to  death 
a  multitude  of  persons  who  were  guilty  only  of  having  acted 
under  William  since  William  had  been  king  in  fact,  and  who 
were  therefore  under  the  protection  of  a  well  known  statute  of 
Henry  the  Seventh.  But  to  James  statutes  were  still  what 
they  had  always  been.  He  denounced  vengeance  against  all 
persons  who  had  in  any  manner  borne  a  part  in  the  punishment 
of  any  Jacobite  conspirator,  judges,  counsel,  witnesses,  grand 
jurymen,  petty  jurymen,  sheriffs  and  undersheriffs,  constables 
and  turnkey sx  in  short,  all  the  ministers  of  justice  from  Holt 
down  to  Ketch.  Then  he  threatened  with  the  gallows  all  spies 
and  all  informers  who  had  divulged  to  the  usurpers  the  designs 
of  the  Court  of  Saint  Germains.  All  justices  of  the  peace  who 
should  not  declare  for  tneir  rightful  Sovereign  the  moment  they 
heard  of  his  landing,  all  gaolers  who  should  not  instantly  set 
political  prisoners  at  liberty,  were  to  be  left  to  the  extreme 
rigour  of  the  law.  No  exception  was  made  in  favour  of  a  justice 
or  of  a  gaoler  who  might  be  within  a  hundred  yards  of  one  of 
William's  regiments,  and  a  hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  place 
where  there  was  a  single  Jacobite  in  arms. 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  James,  after  thus  declur- 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  311 

ing  that  he  could  hold  oat  no  hope  of  mercy  to  large  classes  of 
his  subjects,  would  at  least  have  offered  a  general  pardon  to  the 
rest.  But  he  pardoned  nobody.  He  did  indeed  promise  that 
any  offender  who  was  not  in  any  of  the  categories  of  proscrip- 
tion, and  who  should  by  any  eminent  service  merit  indulgence, 
should  have  a  special  pardon  passed  under  the  Great  Seal.  But, 
with  this  exception,  all  the  offenders,  hundreds  of  thousands  in 
number,  were  merely  informed  that,  if  they  did  no  act  or  thing 
in  opposition  to  the  King's  restoration,  they  might  hope  to  be, 
at  a  convenient  time,  included  in  a  general  Act  of  Indemnity. 

The  agents  of  James  speedily  dispersed  his  Declaration 
over  every  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  by  doing  so  rendered  a 
great  service  to  William.  The  general  cry  was  that  the 
banished  oppressor  had  at  least  given  Englishmen  fair  warning, 
and  that,  if,  after  such  a  warning,  they  welcomed  him  home, 
they  would  have  no  pretence  for  complaining,  though  every 
county  town  should  be  polluted  by  an  assize  resembling  that 
which  Jeffreys  had  held  at  Tauuton.  That  some  hundreds  of 
people, — the  Jacobites  put  the  number  so  low  as  five  hundred, 
— were  to  be  hanged  without  pity  was  certain  ;  and  nobody  who 
had  concurred  in  the  Revolution,  nobody  who  had  fought  for 
the  new  government  by  sea  or  land,  no  soldier  who  had  borne 
a  part  in  the  conquest  of  Ireland,  no  Devonshire  ploughman 
or  Cornish  miner  who  had  taken  arms  to  defend  his  wife  and 
children  against  Tourville,  could  be  certain  that  he  should  not 
be  hanged.  It  was  easy  to  understand  why  James,  instead  of 
proclaiming  a  general  amnesty,  offered  special  pardons  under 
his  Great  Seal.  Every  such  pardon  must  be  paid  for.  There 
was  not  a  priest  in  the  royal  household  who  would  not  make 
his  fortune.  How  abject  too,  how  spiteful,  must  be  the  nature 
of  a  man  who,  engaged  in  the  most  momentous  of  all  under- 
takings, and  aspiring  to  the  noblest  of  all  prizes,  could  not  re- 
frain from  proclaiming  that  he  thirsted  for  the  blood  of  a  multi- 
tude of  poor  fishermen,  because,  more  than  three  years  before, 
they  had  pulled  him  about  and  called  him  Hatchetface  !  *  If, 

*  That  the  Declaration  made  the  impression  which  I  have  described,  is  ac- 
knowledged in  the  Life  of  James,  ii.  489.    "  They  thought,"  says  the  biographer. 


at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  the  strongest  motives  for  try- 
ing to  conciliate  his  people  by  the  show  of  clemency,  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  hold  towards  them  any  language  but  that 
of  an  implacable  enemy,  what  was  to  be  expected  from  him  when 
he  should  be  again  their  master  ?  So  savage  was  his  nature 
that,  ia  a  situation  in  which  all  other  tyrants  have  resorted  to 
blandishments  and  fair  promises,  he  could  utter  nothing  but  re- 
proaches and  threats.  The  only  words  in  his  Declaration  which 
had  any  show  of  graciousness  were  those  in  which  he  promised 
to  send  away  the  foreign  troops  as  soon  as  his  authority  was  re- 
established ;  and  many  said  that  those  words,  when  examined 
would  be  found  full  of  sinister  meaning.  He  held  out  no  hope 
that  he  would  send  away  Popish  troops  who  were  his  own  sub- 
jects. His  intentions  were  manifest.  The  French  might  go . 
bnt  the  Irish  would  remain.  The  people  of  England  were  to 
be  kept  down  by  these  thrice  subjugated  barbarians.  No  doubt 
a  Rapparee  who  had  run  away  at  Newton  Butler  and  the  Boyne 
might  find  courage  enough  to  guard  the  scaffolds  on  which  his 
conqaerors  were  to  die,  and  to  lay  waste  our  country  as  he  had 
laid  waste  his  own. 

The  Queen  and  her  ministers,  instead  of  attempting  to  sup- 
press James's  manifesto,  very  wisely  reprinted  it,  and  sent  it 
forth  licensed  by  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  interspersed  with 
remarks  by  a  shrewd  and  severe  commentator.  It  was  refuted 
in  many  keen  pamphlets  :  it  was  turned  into  doggrel  rhymes  ; 
and  it  was  left  undefended  even  by  the  boldest  and  most  acri- 
monious libellers  among  the  nonjurors.* 

"  His  Majesty's  resentment  descended  too  low  to  expect  the  Feversham  Mob, 
that  five  hundred  men  were  excluded,  and  no  man  really  pardon'd  except  he 
should  merit  it  by  some  service,  and  then  the  Pardons  being  10  pass  the  Seals 
look'd  as  if  it  were  to  bring  money  into  the  pocket  of  some  favorites." 

*  A  letter  to  a  Friend  concerning  a  French  Invasion  to  restore  the  late  King 
James  to  his  Throne,  ami  what  may  be  expected  from  him  should  he  be  success- 
ful in  it,  1692  ;  A  second  Letter  to  a  Friend  concerning  a  French  Invasion,  in. 
which  the  Declaration  lately  dispersed  under  the  Title  of  His  Majesty's  most 
gracious  Declaration  to  all  his  loving  Subjects,  commanding  their  Assistance 
against  the  P.  of  O.  and  his  Adherents,  is  entirely  and  exactly  published  accord- 
ing to  the  Dispersed  Copies,  with  some  short  Observations  upon  it,  1602  ;  The 
Pretences  of  the  French  Invasion  examined,  1692  ;  Reflections  on  the  late  King 
James's  Declaration.  1(502.  The  two  Letters  to  a  Friend  were  written,  I  believe, 
by  Lloyd  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph.  Sheridaa  says,  "  The  King's  Declaration  pleas'd 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  313 

Indeed,  some  of  the  non jurors  were  so  much  alarmed  by  ob- 
serving the  effect  which  this  manifesto  produced,  that  they  af- 
fected to  treat  it  as  spurious,  and  published  as  their  master's 
genuine  Declaration  a  paper  full  of  gracious  professions  and 
promises.  They  made  him  offer  a  free  pardon  to  all  his  peo- 
ple with  the  exception  of  four  great  criminals.  They  made  him 
hold  out  hopes  of  great  remissions  of  taxation.  They  made  him 
pledge  his  word  that  he  would  entrust  the  whole  ecclesiastical 
administration  to  the  nonjuring  bishops.  But  this  forgery  im- 
posed on  nobody,  and  was  important  only  as  showing  that  even 
the  Jacobites  were  ashamed  of  the  prh;ce  whom  thsy  were  la- 
bouring to  restore.* 

No  man  read  the  Declaration  with  more  surprise  and  anger 
than  Russell.  Bad  as  he  was,  he  was  much  under  the  influence 
of  two  feelings,  which,  though  they  cannot  be  called  virtuous, 
have  some  affinity  to  virtue,  and  are  respectable  when  compared 
with  mere  selfish  cupidity.  Professional  spirit  and  party  spirit 
were  strong  in  him.  He  might  be  false  to  his  sovereigns,  but 
not  to  his  nag ;  and,  even  in  becoming  a  Jacobite,  he  had  not 
ceased  to  be  a  Whig.  In  truth,  he  was  a  Jacobite  only  because 
he  was  the  most  intolerant  and  acrimonious  of  Whigs.  He 
thought  himself  and  his  faction  ungratefully  neglected  by  Wil- 
liam, and  was  for  a  time  too  much  blinded  by  resentment  to  per- 
ceive that  it  would  be  mere  madness  in  the  old  roundheads,  the 
old  Exclusionists,  to  punish  William  by  recalling  James.  The 
near  prospect  of  an  invasion,  and  the  Declaration  in  which 
Englishmen  were  plainly  told  what  they  had  to  expect  if  that 
invasion  should  be  successful,  produced,  it  should  seem,  a  sud- 
den change  in  Russell's  feelings  ;  and  that  change  he  distinctly 
avowed.  "  I  wish,"  he  said  to  Lloyd,  "  to  serve  King  James. 
The  thing  might  be  done,  if  it  were  not  his  own  fault.  But  he 
takes  the  wrong  way  with  us.  Let  him  forget  all  the  past :  let 

none,  and  was  tnni'd  into  ridicule  burlesque  lines  in  England."  I  do  not  believe 
that  a  defence  of  this  unfortunate  Declaration  is  to  be  found  in  any  Jacobite 
tract.  A  virulent  Jacobite  writer,  in  a  reply  to  Dr.  "Welwood,  printed  in  1093, 
says,  "  As  for  the  Declaration  that  was  printed  last  year,  ...  I  assure  you  that 
it  was  as  much  misliked  by  many,  almost  all,  of  the  King's  friends,  as  it  can  be 
©>!K>8edby  his  enemies." 

*  iiareisBua  Luttrell's  Diary,  April  1C92. 


him  grant  a  general  pardon  ;  and  then  I  will  see  what  I  can 
do  for  him."  Lloyd  hinted  something  about  the  honours  and 
rewards  designed  for  Russell  himself.  But  the  Admiral,  with 
a  spirit  worthy  of  a  better  man,  cut  him  short.  "  I  do  not  wish 
to  hear  anything  on  that  subject.  My  solicitude  is  for  the  pub- 
lic. And  do  not  think  that  I  will  let  the  French  triumph  over 
us  in  our  own  sea.  Understand  this,  that  if  I  meet  them  I  fight 
them,  aye,  though  His  Majesty  himself  should  be  on  board." 

This  conversation  was  truly  reported  to  James  ;  but  it  does 
not  appear  to  have  alarmed  him.  He  was,  indeed,  possessed  with 
a  belief  that  Russell,  even  if  willing,  would  not  be  able  to  in 
duce  the  officers  and  sailors  of  the  English  navy  to  fight  against 
their  old  King,  who  was  also  their  old  Admiral. 

The  hopes  which  James  felt  he  and  his  favourite  Melfort 
succeeded  in  imparting  to  Lewis  and  to  Lewis's  ministers.*  But 
for  those  hopes,  indeed,  it  is  probable  that  all  thoughts  of  inva- 
ding England  in  the  course  of  that  year  would  have  been  laid 
aside.  For  the  extensive  plan  which  had  been  formed  in  the 
winter  had,  in  the  course  of  the  spring,  been  disconcerted  by  a  suc- 
cession of  accidents  such  as  are  beyond  the  control  of  human  wisdom. 
The  time  fixed  for  the  assemblng  of  all  the  maritime  forces' of 
France  at  JJshant  had  long  elapsed ;  and  not  a  single  sail  had  ap_ 
peared  at  the  place  of  rendezvous.  The  Atlantic  squadron  was 
still  detained  by  bad  weather  in  the  port  of  Brest.  The  Med- 
iterranean squadron,  opposed  by  a  strong  west  wind,  was  vainly 
struggling  to  pass  the  pillars  of  Hercules.  Two  fine  vessels  had 
gone  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  of  Ceuta.f  Meanwhile  the  admi- 
ralties of  the  allied  powers  had  been  active.  Before  the  end 
of  April  the  English  fleet  was  ready  to  sail.  Three  noble 
ships,  just  launched  from  our  dockyards,  appeared  for  the  first 
time  on  the  water.J  William  had  been  hastening  the  maritime 
preparations  of  the  United  Provinces ;  and  his  exertions  had 
been  successful.  On  the  twenty-ninth  of  April  a  fine  squadron 
from  the  Texel  appeared  in  the  Downs.  Soon  came  the  North 
Holland  squadron,  the  Meuse  squadron,  the  Zealand  squadron. § 

*  Sheridan  MS.  ;  Memoires  de  Dangeau. 

t  London  Gazette,  May  12,  1G,  1692  ;  Gazette  de  Paris,  May  21-31, 1C92. 

t  London  Gazette,  April  28,  1C02.  §  Ibid.,  May  2,  5, 12, 16. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  315 

The  whole  force  of  the  confederate  powers  was  assembled  at 
Saint  Helen's  in  the  second  week  of  May,  more  than  ninety  sail 
of  the  line,  manned  by  between  thirty  and  forty  thousand  of  the 
finest  seamen  of  the  two  great  maritime  nations.  Russell  had 
the  chief  command.  He  was  assisted  by  Sir  Ralph  Delaval, 
Sir  John  Ashby,  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel,  Rear  Admiral  Carter 
and  Rear  Admiral  Rooke.  Of  the  Dutch  officers  Van  Almonde 
was  highest  in  rank. 

No  mightier  armament  had  ever  appeared  in  the  British 
Channel.  There  was  little  reason  for  apprehension  that  such  a 
force  could  be  defeated  in  a  fair  conflict.  Nevertheless  there  was 
great  uneasiness  in  London.  It  was  known  that  there  was  a  Ja- 
cobite party  in  the  navy.  Alarming  rumours  had  worked  their 
way  round  from  France.  It  was  said  that  the  enemy  reckoned 
on  the  co-operation  of  some  of  those  officers  on  whose  fidelity, 
in  this  crisis,  the  safety  of  the  State  might  depend.  Russell,  as 
far  as  can  now  be  discovered,  was  still  unsuspected.  But  others, 
who  were  probably  less  criminal,  had  been  more  indiscreet.  At 
all  the  coffee  houses  admirals  and  captains  were  mentioned  by 
name  as  traitors  who  ought  to  be  instantly  cashiered,  if  not  shot. 
It  was  even  confidently  affirmed  that  some  of  the  guilty  had 
been  put  under  arrest,  and  others  turned  out  of  the  service. 
The  Queen  and  her  counsellors  were  in  a  great  strait.  It  was  not 
easy  to  say  whether  the  danger  of  trusting  the  suspected  per- 
sons or  the  danger  of  removing  them  were  the  greater.  Mary, 
with  many  painful  misgivings,  resolved, — and  the  event  proved 
that  she  resolved  wisely, — to  treat  the  evil  reports  as  calum- 
nious, to  make  a  solemn  appeal  to  the  honour  of  the  accused 
gentlemen,  and  then  to  trust  the  safety  of  her  kingdom  to  their 
national  and  professional  spirit. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  May  a  great  assembly  of  officers  was  con- 
voked at  Saint  Helen's  on  board  of  the  Britannia,  a  fine  three- 
decker,  from  which  Russell's  flag  was  flying.  The  Admiral  told 
them  that  he  had  received  a  despatch  which  he  was  charged  to 
read  to  them.  It  was  from  Nottingham.  The  Queen,  the  Sec- 
retary wrote,  had  been  informed  that  stories  deeply  affecting  the 
character  of  the  navy  were  in  circulation.  It  had  even  been  af- 


firmed  that  she  had  found  herself  under  the  necessity  of  dismiss- 
ing many  officers.  But  Her  Majesty  was  determined  to  believe 
nothing  against  those  brave  servants-  of  the  State.  The  gentle- 
men who  had  been  so  foully  slandered  might  be  assured  that 
she  placed  entire  reliance  on  them.  This  letter  was  admirably 
calculated  to  work  on  those  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  Very 
few  of  them  probably  had  been  guilty  of  any  worse  offence  than 
rash  and  angry  talk  over  their  wine.  They  were  as  yet  only 
grumblers.  If  they  had  fancied  that  they  were  marked  men, 
they  might  in  self-defence  have  become  traitors.  They  became 
enthusiastically  loyal  as  soon  as  they  were  assured  that  the 
Queen  reposed  entire  confidence  in  their  loyalty.  They  eagerly 
signed  an  address  in  which  they  entreated  her  to  believe  that 
they  would,  with  the  utmost  resolution  and  alacrity,  venture 
their  lives  in  defence  of  her  rights,  of  English  freedom,  and 
of  the  Protestant  religion,  against  all  foreign  and  Popish  inva- 
ders. "  God,"  they  added,  "  preserve  your  person,  diz'ect  your 
counsels,  and  prosper  your  arms ;  and  let  all  your  people  say 
Amen.'  * 

The  sincerity  of  these  professions  was  soon  brought  to  the 
test.  A  few  hours  after  the  meeting  on  board  of  the  Britan- 
nia the  masts  of  Tourville's  squadron  were  seen  from  the  cliffs 
of  Portland.  One  messenger  galloped  with  the  news  from 
Weymouth  to  London,  and  roused  Whitehall  at  three  in  the 
morning.  Another  took  the  coast  road,  and  carried  the  intelli- 
gence to  Russell.  All  was  ready  ;  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
seventeenth  of  May  the  allied  fleet  stood  out  to  sea.f 

Tourville  had  with  him  only  his  own  squadron,  consisting  of 
forty-four  ships  of  the  line.  But  he  had  received  positive  orders 
to  protect  the  descent  on  England,  and  not  to  decline  a  battle. 
Though  these  orders  had  been  given  before  it  was  known  at  Ver- 
sailles that  the  Dutch  and  English  fleets  had  joined,  he  was  not 
disposed  to  take  on  himself  the  responsibility  of  disobedience. 
He  still  remembered  with  bitterness  the  reprimand  which  his  ex- 
treme caution  had  drawn  upon  him  after  the  fight  of  Beachy 

*  London  Gazette,  May  16, 1602  ;  Burchett. 

t  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  ;  London  Gazette,  May  19, 1692. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  317 

Head.  He  would  not  again  be  told  that  he  was  a  timid  and  un- 
enterprising commander,  that  he  had  no  courage  but  the  vulgar 
courage  of  a  common  sailor.  He  was  also  persuaded  that  the 
odds  against  him  were  rather  apparent  than  real.  He  believed, 
on  the  authority  of  James  and  Melfort,  that  the  English  sea- 
men, from  the  flag  officers  down  to  the  cabin  boys,  were  Jacobites. 
Those  who  fought  would  fight  with  half  a  heart ;  and  there 
would  probably  be  numerous  desertions  at  the  most  critical  mo- 
ment. Animated  by  such  hopes  he  sailed  from  Brest,  steered 
first  towards  the  north  east,  came  in  sight  of  the  coast  of  Dor- 
setshire, and  then  struck  across  the  Channel  towards  La  Hogue, 
where  the  army  which  he  was  to  convoy  to  England  had  already 
begun  to  embark  on  board  of  the  transports.  He  was  within  a 
few  leagues  of  Barfleur  when,  before  sunrise,  on  the  nineteenth 
of  May,  he  saw  the  great  armament  of  the  allies  stretching 
along  the  eastern  horizon.  He  determined  to  bear  down  on 
them.  By  eight  the  two  lines  of  battle  were  formed ;  but  it 
was  eleven  before  the  firing  began.  It  soon  became  plain  that 
the  English,  from  the  Admiral  downwards,  were  resolved  to  do 
their  duty.  Russell  had  visited  all  his  ships,  and  exhorted  all 
his  crews.  ."  If  your  commanders  play  false,"  he  said,  "  over- 
board with  them,  and  with  myself  the  first."  There  was  no 
defection.  There  was  no  slackness.  Carter  was  the  first  who 
broke  the  French  line.  He  was  struck  by  a  splinter  of  one  of 
his  own  yardarms,  and  fell  dying  on  the  deck.  He  would  not 
be  carried  below.  He  would  not  let  go  his  sword.  "  Fight  the 
ship,"  were  his  last  words  :  "  fight  the  ship  as  long  as  she  can 
swim."  The  battle  lasted  till  four  in  the  afternoon.  The  roar 
of  the  guns  was  distinctly  heard  more  than  twenty  miles  off  by 
the  army  which  was  encamped  on  the  coast  of  Normandy.  Dur- 
ing the  earlier  part  of  the  day  the  wind  was  favourable  to  the 
French  :  they  were  opposed  to  only  half  of  the  allied  fleet;  and 
against  that  half  they  maintained  the  conflict  with  their  usual 
courage  and  with  more  than  their  usual  seamanship.  After  a 
hard  and  doubtful  fight  of  five  hours,  Tourville  thought  that 
enough  had  been  done  to  maintain  the  honour  of  the  white  flag, 
and  began  to  draw  off.  But  by  this  time  the  wind  had  veered, 


and  was  with  the  allies.  They  were  now  able  to  avail  them- 
selves of  their  great  superiority  of  force.  They  came  on  fast. 
The  retreat  of  the  French  became  a  flight.  Tourville  fought 
his  own  ship  desperately.  She  was  named,  in  allusion  to 
Lewis's  favourite  emblem,  the  Royal  Sun,  and  was  widely  re- 
nowned as  the  finest  vessel  in .  the  world.  It  was  reported 
among  the  English  sailors  that  she  was  adorned  with  an  image 
of  the  Great  King,  and  that  he  appeared  there,  as  he  appeared 
in  the  Place  of  Victories,  with  vanquished  nations  in  chains  be- 
neath his  feet.  The  gallant  ship,  surrounded  by  enemies,  lay 
like  a  great  fortress  on  the  sea,  scattering  death  on  every  side 
from  her  hundred  and  four  portholes.  She  was  so  formidably 
manned  that  all  attempts  to  board  her  failed.  Long  after  sun- 
set, she  got  clear  of  her  assailants,  and,  with  all  her  scuppers 
spouting  blood,  made  for  the  coast  of  Normandy.  She  had  suf- 
fered so  much  that  Tourville  hastily  removed  his  flag  to  a  ship 
of  ninety  guna  which  was  named  the  Ambitious.  By  this  time 
his  fleet  was  scattered  far  over  the  sea.  About  twenty  of  his 
smallest  ships  made  their  escape  by  a  road  which  was  too  per- 
ilous for  any  courage  but  the  courage  of  despair.  In  the  double 
darkness  of  night  and  of  a  thick  sea  fog,  they  ran,  with  all  their 
sails  spread,  through  the  boiling  waves  and  treacherous  rocks 
of  the  Race  of  Alderney,  and,  by  a  strange  good  fortune,  arrived 
without  a  single  disaster  at  Saint  Maloes.  The  pursuers  did 
not  venture  to  follow  the  fugitives  into  that  terrible  strait,  the 
place  of  innumerable  shipwrecks.* 

Those  French  vessels  which  were  too  bulky  to  venture  into 
the  Race  of  Alderney  fled  to  the  havens  of  the  Cotentiu.  The 
Royal  Sun  and  two  other  threedeckers  reached  Cherburg  in 
safety.  The  Ambitious,  with  twelve  other  ships,  all  firstrates 
or  secondrates,  took  refuge  in  the  Bay  of  La  Hogue,  close  to 
the  head  quarters  of  the  army  of  James. 

The  three  ships  which  had  fled  to  Cherburg  were  closely 

*  Russell's  Letter  to  Nottingham,  May  20, 1C92,  in  the  London  Gazette  of  May 
23  ;  Particulars  of  Another  Letter  from  the  Fleet  published  by  authority  ;  Bur- 
chett  ;  Burnet,  ii.  93 ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  493,  494  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary ; 
Memoires  de  Berwick.  See  also  the  contemporary  ballad  on  the  battle,  one  of 
the  best  specimens  of  English  street  poetry,  and  tlio  Advice  to  a  Painter, 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  319 

chased  by  an  English  squadron  under  the  command  of  Delaval. 
He  found  them  hauled  up  into  shoal  water  where  no  large  man 
of  war  could  get  at  them.  He  therefore  determined  to  attack 
them  with  his  fireships  and  boats.  The  service  was  gallantly 
and  successfully  performed.  In  a  short  time  the  Royal  Sun  and 
her  two  consorts  were  burned  to  ashes.  Part  of  the  crews 
escaped  to  the  shore  :  and  part  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 

Meanwhile  Russell  with  the  greater  part  of  his  victorious 
fleet  had  blockaded  the  Bay  of  La  Hogue.  Here,  as  at  Cher- 
burg,  the  French  men  of  war  had  been  drawn  up  into  shallow 
water.  They  were  close  to  the  camp  of  the  army  which  was 
destined  for  the  invasion  of  England.  Six  of  them  were  moored 
under  a  fort  named  Lisset.  The  rest  lay  under  the  guns  of 
another  fort  named  Saint  Vaast,  where  James  had  fixed  his' 
head  quarters,  and  where  the  British  flag,  variegated  by  the 
crosses  of  Saint  George  and  Saint  Andrew,  hung  by  the  side  of 
the  White  flag  of  France.  Marshal  Belief  onds  had  plan  ted  several 
batteries  which,  it  was  thought,  would  deter  the  boldest  enemy 
from  approaching  either  Fort  Lisset  or  Fort  Saint  Vaast. 
James,  however,  who  knew  something  of  English  seamen,  was 
not  perfectly  at  ease,  and  proposed  to  send  strong  bodies  of  sol- 
diers on  board  of  the  ships.  But  Tourville  would  not  consent 
to  put  such  a  slur  on  his  profession. 

Russell  meanwhile  was  preparing  for  an  attack.  On  the 
afternoon  of  the  twenty-third  of  May  all  was  ready.  A  flotilla 
consisting  of  sloops,  of  fireships,  and  of  two  hundred  boats,  was 
entrusted  to  the  command  of  Rooke.  The  whole  armament 
was  in  the  highest  spirits.  The  rowers,  flushed  by  success,  and 
animated  by  the  thought  that  they  were  going  to  fight  under 
the  eyes  of  the  French  and  Irish  troops  who  had  been  assem- 
bled for  the  purpose  of  subjugating  England,  pulled  manfully 
and  with  loud  huzzas  towards  the  six  huge  wooden  castles  which 
lay  close  to  Fort  Lisset.  The  French,  though  an  eminently 
brave  people,  have  always  been  more  liable  to  sudden  panics 

*  See  Del  aval's  Letter  to  Nottingham,  dated  Cherburg,  May  22,  1692,  in  the 
London  Gazette  of  May  26. 


than  their  phlegmatic  neighbours  the  English  and  Germans. 
On  this  day  there  was  a  panic  both  in  the  fleet  and  in  the  army. 
Tourville  ordered  his  sailors  to  man  their  boats,  and  would  have 
led  them  to  encounter  the  enemy  in  the  bay.  But  his  example 
and  his  exhortations  were  vain.  His  boats  turned  round  and  fled 
in  confusion.  The  ships  were  abandoned.  The  cannonade  from 
Fort  Lisset  was  so  feeble  and  ill  directed  that  it  did  no  exe- 
cution. The  regiments  on  the  beach,  after  wasting  a  few  musket 
shots,  drew  off.  The  English  boarded  the  men  of  war,  set 
them  on  fire,  and  having  performed  this  great  service  without 
the  loss  of  a  single  life,  retreated  at  a  late  hour  with  the  re- 
treating tide.  The  bay  was  in  a  blaze  during  the  night ; 
and  now  and  then  a  loud  explosion  announced  that  the  flames 
had  reached  a  powder  room  or  a  tier  of  loaded  guns.  At  eight 
the  next  morning  the  tide  came  back  strong  ;  and  with 
the  tide  came  back  Rooke  and  his  two  hundred  boats.  The 
enemy  made  a  faint  attempt  to  defend  the  vessels  which  were 
near  Fort  Saint  Vaast.  During  a  few  minutes  the  batteries  did 
some  execution  among  the  crews  of  our  skiffs :  but  the  struggle 
was  soon  over.  The  French  poured  fast  out  of  their  ships  on 
one  side:  the  English  poured  in  as  fast  on  the  other,  and,  with 
loud  shouts,  turned  the  captured  guns  against  the  shore.  The 
batteries  were  speedily  silenced.  James  and  Melfort,  Belle- 
fonds  and  Tourville,  looked  on  in  helpless  despondency  while 
the  second  conflagration  proceeded.  The  conquerors,  leaving 
the  ships  of  war  in  flames,  made  their  way  into  an  inner  basin 
where  many  transports  lay.  Eight  of  these  vessels  were  set  on 
fire.  Several  were  taken  in-  tow.  The  rest  would  have  been 
either  destroyed  or  carried  off,  had  not  the  sea  again  begun  to 
ebb.  It  was  impossible  to  do  more  ;  and  the  victorious  flotilla 
slowly  retired,  insulting  the  hostile  camp  with  a  thundering 
chant  of  "  God  save  the  King." 

Thus  ended,  at  noon  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  May,  the  great 
conflict  which  had  raged  during  five  days  over  a  wide  extent  of 
sea  and  shore.  One  English  fireship  had  perished  in  its  calling. 
Sixteen  French  men  of  war,  all  noble  vessels,  and  eight  of  them 
threedeckers,  had  been  sunk  or  burned  down  to  the  wateredge. 

WILLIAM   AND    MATCY.  6'2\ 

The  battle  is  called,  from  the  place  where  it  terminated,  the 
battle  of  La  Hogue.* 

The  news  was  received  in  London  with  boundless  exultation. 
In  the  fight  on  the  open  sea,  indeed,  the  numerical  superiority 
of  the  allies  had  been  so  great  that  they  had  little  reason  to 
boast  of  their  success.  But  the  courage  and  skill  with  which 
the  crews  of  the  English  boats  had,  in  a  French  harbour,  in 
sight  of  a  French  army,  and  under  the  fire  of  French  batteries, 
destroyed  a  fine  French  fleet,  amply  justified  the  pride  with 
which  our  fathers  pronounced  the  name  of  La  Hogue.  That 
we  may  fully  enter  into  their  feelings,  we  must  remember  that 
this  was  the  first  great  check  that  had  ever  been  given  to  the 
arms  of  Lewis  the  Fourteenth,  and  the  first  great  victory  that 
the  English  had  gained  over  the  French  since  the  day  of  Agin- 
court.  The  stain  left  on  our  fame  by  the  shameful  defeat  of 
Beachy  Head  was  effaced.  This  time  the  glory  was  all  our 
own.  The  Dutch  had  indeed  done  their  duty,  as  they  have 
always  done  it  in  maritime  war,  whether  fighting  on  our  side 
or  against  us,  whether  victorious  or  vanquished.  .  But  the  Eng- 
lish had  borne  the  brunt  of  the  fight.  Russell  who  commanded 
in  chief  was  an  Englishman.  Delaval  who  directed  the  attack 
on  Cherburg  was  an  Englishman.  Rooke  who  led  the  flotilla 
into  the  Bay  of  La  Hogue  was  an  Englishman.  The  only  two 
officers  of  note  who  had  fallen,  Admiral  Carter  and  Captain 
Hustings  of  the  Sandwich,  were  Englishmen.  Yet  the  pleas- 
ure with  which  the  good  news  was  received  here  must  not  be  as- 
cribed solely  or  chiefly  to  national  pride.  The  island  was  safe. 
The  pleasant  pastures,  cornfields  and  commons  of  Hampshire 
and  Surrey  would  not  be  the  seat  of  war.  The  houses  and  gar- 
dens, the  kitchens  and  dairies,  the  cellars  and  plate  chests,  the 

*  London  Gazette,  May  26,  1692  ;  Burchett's  Memoirs  of  Transactions  at  Sea  ; 

Baden  to  the  States  General,  ™*y—n  ;  Life  of  James,  ii.  494  ;  Russell's  Letters  in 
June  3, 

the  Commons'  Journals  of  Nov.  28,  1692  ;  An  Account  of  the  Great  Victory, 
169J  ;  Monthly  Mercuries  for  June  and  July  1692  ;  Paris  Gazette,  ^-'-^  ;  Van 

June  i, 

Almonde's  despatch  to  the  States  General,  dated  ******-'  1692.    The  French  official 

account  will  be  found  in  the  Monthly  Mercury  for  July.  A  report  drawn  up  by 
Foucault,  Intcndant  of  the  province  of  Noriuaudy,  will  be  found  in  M.  Cape- 
figue's  Louis  XIV. 

VOL.  IV.— 21 


wives  and  daughters  of  our  gentry  and  clergy  would  not  be  at  the 
mercy  of  Irish  Rapparees,  who  had  sacked  the  dwellings  and 
skinned  the  cattle  of  the  Englishry  of  Leinster,  or  of  French  dra- 
goons accustomed  to  live  at  free  quarters  on  the  Protestants  of 
Auvergne.  Whigs  and  Tories  joined  in  thanking  God  for  this 
great  deliverance  ;  and  the  most  respectable  non  jurors  could  not 
but  be  glad  at  heart  that  the  rightful  King  was  not  to  be  brought 
back  by  an  army  of  foreigners. 

The  public  joy  was  therefore  all  but  universal.  During  sev- 
eral days  the  bells  of  London  pealed  without  ceasing.  Flags  were 
flying  on  all  the  steeples.  Rows  of  candles  were  in  all  the  win- 
dows. Bonfires  were  at  all  the  corners  of  the  streets.*  The  sense 
which  the  government  entertained  of  the  services  of  the  navy 
was  promptly,  judiciously,  and  gracefully  manifested.  Sidney 
and  Portland  were  sent  to  meet  the  fleet  at  Portsmouth,  and  were 
accompanied  by  Rochester,  as  the  representative  of  the  Tone?. 
The  three  Lords  took  down  with  them  thirty-seven  thousand 
pounds  in  coin,  which  they  were  to  distribute  as  a  donative  among 
the  sailors.f  Gold  medals  were  given  to  the  officers,  t  The  re- 
mains of  Hastings  and  Carter  were  brought  on  shore  with  every 
mark  of  honour.  Carter  was  buried  at  Portsmouth  with  a  great 
display  of  military  pomp.§  The  corpse  of  Hastings  was  carried 
up  to  London,  and  laid,  with  unusual  solemnity,  under  the 
pavement  of  Saint  James's  Church.  The  footguards  with 
reversed  arms  escorted  the  hearse.  Four  royal  state  carriages, 
each  drawn  by  six  horses,  were  in  the  procession  :  a  crowd  of 
men  of  quality  in  mourning  cloaks  filled  the  pews,  and  the 
Bishop  of  Lincoln  preached  the  funefal  sermon. ||  While  such 
marks  of  respect  were  paid  to  the  slain,  the  wounded  were  not 
neglected.  Fifty  surgeons,  plentifully  supplied  with  instru- 
ments, bandages,  and  drugs,  were  sent  down  in  all  haste  from 

*  An  Account  of  the  late  Great  Victory,  1692  ;  Monthly  Mercury  for  June  : 

Baden  to  the  States  General.  H5L§!  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary. 
June  3, ' 

t  London  Gazette,  June  2,  1692 ;   Monthly  Mercury ;   Baden  to  the  States 
General,  June  14-2 1 ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary, 
t  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  ;  Monthly  Mercury. 
§  London  Gazette,  June  9  ;  Baden  to  the  States  General,  June  7-17. 
y  Baden  to  the  States  General,  June  3-13. 


London  to  Portsmouth.*  It  is  not  easy  for  us  to  form  a  notion 
of  the  difficulty  which  there  then  was  in  providing  at  short 
notice  commodious  shelter  and  skilful  attendance  for  hundreds 
of  maimed  and  lacerated  men.  At  present  every  county,  every 
large  town,  can  boast  of  some  spacious  palace  in  which  the 
poorest  labourer  who  has  fractured  a  limb  may  find  an  excellent 
bed,  an  able  medical  attendant,  a  careful  nurse,  medicines  of  the 
best  quality,  and  nourishment  such  an  invalid  requires.  But 
there  was  not  then,  in  the  whole  ,realm,  a  single  infirmary 
supported  by  voluntary  contribution.  Even  in  the  capital  the 
only  edifices  open  to  the  wounded  were  the  two  ancient  hospitals 
of  Saint  Thomas  and  Saint  Bartholomew.  The  Queen  gave 
orders  that  in  both  these  hospitals  arrangements  should  be  made* 
at  the  public  charge  for  the  reception  of  patients  from  the  fleet.f 
At  the  same  time  it  was  announced  that  a  noble  and  lasting 
memorial  of  the  gratitude  which  England  felt  for  the  courage 
and  patriotism  of  her  sailors  would  soon  rise  on  a  site  eminently 
appropriate.  Among  the  suburban  residences  of  our  kings,  that 
which  stood  at  Greenwich  had  long  held  a  distinguished  place. 
Charles  the  Second  liked  the  situation,  and  determined  to  rebuild 
the  house  and  to  improve  the  gardens.  Soon  after  his  Restora- 
tion, he  began  to  erect,  on  a  spot  almost  washed  by  the  Thames 
at  high  tide,  a  mansion  of  vast  extent  and  cost.  Behind  the 
palace  were  planted  long  avenues  of  trees  which,  when  William 
reigned,  were  scarcely  more  than  saplings,  but  which  have  now 
covered  with  their  massy  shade  the  summer  rambles  of  several 
generations.  On  the  slope  which  has  long  been  the  scene  of 
the  holiday  sports  of  the  Londoners,  were  constructed  flights  of 
terraces,  of  which  the  vestiges  may  still  be  discerned.  The 
Queen  now  publicly  declared,  in  her  husband's  name,  that  the 
building  commenced  by  Charles  should  be  completed,  and  should 
be  a  retreat  for  seamen  disabled  in  the  service  of  their  country.^: 
One  of  the  happiest  effects  produced  by  the  good  news  was 
the  calming  of  the  public  mind.  During  about  a  month  the 

*  Baden  to  the  States  General,  May -24<:  Narcissus  Luttrell'a  Diary. 


t  An  Account  of  the  late  Great  Victory,  1692  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary. 
Baden  to  the  States  General,  June  7-17, 1692, 


nation  had  been  hourly  expecting  an  invasion  and  a  rising, 
and  had  consequently  been  in  an  irritable  and  suspicious  mood. 
In  many  parts  of  England  a  nonjuror  could  not  show  himself 
without  great  risk  of  being  insulted.  A  report  that  arms  were 
hidden  in  a  house  sufficed  to  bring  a  furious  mob  to  the  door. 
The  mansion  of  one  Jacobite  gentleman  in  Kent  had  been 
attacked,  and,  after  a  fight  in  which  several  shots  were  fired, 
had  been  stormed  and  pulled  down.*  Yet  such  riots  were  by 
no  means  the  worst  symptoms  of  the  fever  which  had  inflamed 
the  whole  society.  The  exposure  of  Fuller,  in  February,  had, 
as  it  seemed,  put  an  end  to  the  practices  of  that  vile  tribe  of 
which  Gates  was  the  patriarch.  During  some  weeks,  indeed, 
the  world  was  disposed  to  be  unreasonably  incredulous  about 
plots.  But  in  April  there  was  a  reaction.  The  French  and 
Irish  were  coming.  There  was  but  too  much  reason  to  believe 
that  there  were  traitors  in  the  island.  Whoever  pretended  that 
he  could  point  out  those  traitors  was  sure  to  be  heard  with 
attention  ;  and  there  was  not  wanting  a  false  witness  to  avail 
himself  of  the  golden  opportunity. 

This  false  witness  was  named  Robert  Young.  His  history 
was  in  his  own  lifetime  so  fully  investigated,  and  so  much  of 
his  correspondence  has  been  preserved,  that  the  whole  man 
is  before  us.  His  character  is  indeed  a  curious  study.  His 
birthplace  was  a  subject  of  dispute  among  three  nations. 
The  English  pronounced  him  Irish.  The  Irish,  not  being 
ambitious  of  the  honour  of  having  him  for  a  countryman, 
affirmed  that  he  was  born  in  Scotland.  Wherever  he  may 
have  been  born,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  where  he  was  bred : 
for  his  phraseology  is  precisely  that  of  the  Teagues,  who  were, 
in  his  time,  favourite  characters  on  our  stage.  He  called 
himself  a  priest  of  the  Established  Church :  but  he  was  in 
truth  only  a  deacon ;  and  his  deacon's  orders  he  had  obtained 
by  producing  forged  certificates  of  his  learning  and  moral 
character.  Long  before  the  Revolution  he  held  curacies  in 
various  parts  of  Ireland  ;  but  he  did  not  remain  many  days  in 
any  spot.  He  was  driven  from  one  place  by  the  scandal  which 

*  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  225 

was  the  effect  of  his  lawless  amours.  He  rode  away  from  an- 
other  place  on  a  borrowed  horse,  which  he  never  returned.  He 
settled  in  a  third  parish,  and  was  taken  up  for  bigamy.  Some 
letters  which  he  wrote  on  this  occasion  from  the  gaol  of 
Cavan  have  been  preserved.  He  assured  each  of  his  wives, 
with  the  most  frightful  imprecations,  that  she  alone  was  the  ob- 
ject of  his  love  ;  and  he  thus  succeeded  in  inducing  one  of  them 
to  support  him  in  prison,  and  the  other  to  save  his  life  by  for- 
swearing herself  at  the  assizes.  The  only  specimens  which  re- 
main to  us  of  his  method  of  imparting  religious  instruction  are 
to  be  found  in  these  epistles.  He  compares  himself  to  David, 
the  man  after  God's  own  heart,  who  had  been  guilty  both  of 
adultery  and  murder.  He  declares  that  he  repents  :  he  prayg 
for  the  forgiveness  of  the  Almighty,  and  then  entreats  his  dear 
honey  for  Christ's  sake,  to  perjure  herself.  Having  narrowly 
escaped  the  gallows,  he  wandered  during  several  years  about 
Ireland  and  England,  begging,  stealing,  cheating,  personating, 
forging,  and  lay  in  many  prisons  under  many  names.  In.  1684 
he  was  convicted  at  Bury  of  having  fraudulently  counterfeited 
Bancroft'  s  signature,  and  was  sentenced  to  the  pillory  'and  to 
imprisonment.  From  his  dungeon  he  wrote  to  implore  the  Pri- 
mate's mercy.  The  letter  may  still  be  read  with  all  the  original 
bad  grammar  and  bad  spelling.*  The  writer  acknowledged  his 
guilt,  wished  that  his  eyes  were  a  fountain  of  water,  and  de- 
clared that  he  should  never  know  peace  till  he  had  received 
episcopal  absolution.  He  very  cunningly  tried  to  ingratiate  him- 
self with  the  Archbishop,  by  professing  a  mortal  hatred  of  Dis- 
senters. But,  as  all  this  contrition  and  all  this  orthodoxy  pro- 
duced no  effect,  the  penitent,  after  swearing  bitterly  to  be  re- 
venged on  Saucroft,  betook  himself  to  another  device.  The 
Western  Insurrection  had  just  broken  out.  The  magistrates 
all  over  the  country  were  but  too  ready  to  listen  to  any 
accusation  that  might  be  brought  against  Whigs  and  Noncon- 
formists. Young  declared  on  oath  that,  to  his  knowledge,  a 
design  had  been  formed  in  Suffolk  against  the  life  of  King  James, 

*  I  give  one  short  sentence  as  a  specimen  :  "  O  fie  that  ever  it  should  be  said 
that  a  clergyman  have  committed  such  durty  actions  1  " 


and  named  a  peer,  several  gentlemen,  and  ten  Presbyterian 
ministers,  as  parties  to  the  plot.  Some  of  the  accused  were 
brought  to  trial;  and  Young  appeared  in  the  witness  box:  but 
the  story  which  he  told  was  proved  by  overwhelming  evidence 
to  be  false.  Soon  after  the  Revolution  he  was  again  convicted 
of  forgery,  pilloried  for  the  fourth  or  fifth  time,  and  sent  to 
Newgate.  While  he  lay  there,  he  determined  to  try  whether 
he  should  be  more  fortunate  as  an  accuser  of  Jacobites  than  he 
had  been  as  an  accuser  of  Puritans.  He  first  addressed  himself 
to  Tillotson.  There  was  a  horrible  plot  against  their  Majesties, 
a  plot  as  deep  as  hell ;  and  some  of  the  first  men  in  England 
were  concerned  in  it.  Tillotson,  though  he  placed  little  confi- 
dence in  information  coming  from  such  a  source,  thought  that 
the  oath  which  he  had  taken  as  a  Privy  Councillor  made  it  his 
duty  to  mention  the  subject  to  William.  William,  after  his 
fashion,  treated  the  matter  very  lightly.  "  I  am  confident," 
he  said,  "  that  this  is  a  villany  ;  arid  I  will  have  nobody  disturbed 
on  such  grounds."  After  this  rebuff,  Young  remained  seme 
time  quiet.  But  when  William  was  on  the  Continent,  and  when 
the  nation  was  agitated  by  the  apprehension  of  a  French  inva- 
sion and  of  a  Jacobite  insurrection,  a  false  accuser  might  hope 
to  obtain  a  favourable  audience.  The  mere  oath  of  a  man  who 
was  well  known  to  the  turnkeys  of  twenty  gaols  was  not  likely  to 
injure  any  body.  But  Young  was  master  of  a  weapon  which  is, 
of  all  weapons,  the  most  formidable  to  innocence.  He  had  lived 
during  some  years  by  counterfeiting  hands,  and  had  at  length  at- 
tained such  consummate  skill  in  that  bad  art  that  even  experi- 
enced clerks  who  were  conversant  with  manuscript  could  scarcely, 
after  the  most  minute  comparison,  discover  any  difference  be- 
tween his  imitations  and  the  originals.  He  had  succeeded  in 
making  a  collection  of  papers  written  by  men  of  note  who  were 
suspected  of  disaffection.  Some  autographs  he  had  stolen  ;  arid 
some  he  had  obtained  by  writing  in  feigned  names  to  ask  after 
the  characters  of  servants  or  curates.  He  now  drew  up  a  paper 
purporting  to  be  an  Association  for  the  Restoration  of  the  ban- 
ished Kinff.  This  document  set  forth  that  the  subscribers  bound 


themselves   in   the   presence   of   God   to   take   arms   for   His 

WILLIAM   AND    MARY.  327 

Majesty,  and  to  seize  on  the  Prince  of  Orange,  dead  or  alive. 
To  the  Association  Young  appended  the  names  of  Marlborough, 
of  Cornbury,  of  Salisbury,  of  Sancroft,  and  of  Sprat,  Bishop 
of  Rochester  and  Dean  of  Westminster. 

The  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  put  the  paper  into  some 
hiding  place  in  the  house  of  one  of  the  persons  whose  signa- 
tures had  been  counterfeited.  As  Young  could  not  quit  New- 
gate he  was  forced  to  employ  a  subordinate  agent  for  this  pur- 
pose. He  selected  a  wretch  named  Blackhead,  who  had  formerly 
been  convicted  of  perjury,  and  sentenced  to  have  his  ears  clip- 
ped. The  selection  was  not  happy ;  for  Blackhead  had  none 
of  the  qualities  which  the  trade  of  a  false  witness  requires  ex- 
cept wickedness.  There  was  nothing  plausible  about  him.  His 
voice  was  harsh.  Treachery  was  written  in  all  the  lines  of  his 
yellow  face.  He  had  no  invention,  no  presence  of  mind,  and 
could  do  little  more  than  repeat  by  rote  the  lies  taught  him  by 

This  man,  instructed  by  his  accomplice,  repaired  to  Sprat's 
palace  at  Bromley,  introduced  himself  there  as  the  confidential 
servant  of  an  imaginary  Doctor  of  Divinity,  delivered  to  the 
Bishop,  on  bended  knee,  a  letter  ingeniously  manufactured  by 
Young,  and  received,  with  the  semblance  of  profound  reverence, 
the  episcopal  benediction.  The  servants  made  the  stranger  wel- 
come. He  was  taken  to  the  cellar,  drank  their  master's  health, 
arid  entreated  them  to  let  him  see  the  house.  They  could  not 
venture  to  show  any  of  the  private  apartments.  Blackhead, 
therefore,  after  begging  importunately,  but  in  vain,  to  be  suffered 
to  have  one  look  at  the  study,  was  forced  to  content  himself  with 
dropping  the  Association  into  a  flowerpot  which  stood  in  a  par- 
lour near  the  kitchen. 

Every  thing  having  been  thus  prepared,  Young  informed  the 
ministers  that  he  could  tell  them  something  of  the  highest  im- 

O  O 

portance  to  the  welfare  of  the  State,  and  earnestly  begged  to  be 
heard.  His  request  reached  them  on  perhaps  the  most  anxious 
day  of  an  anxious  month.  Tourville  had  just  stood  out  to  sea. 
The  army  of  James  was  embarking.  London  was  agitated  by 
reports  about  the  disaffection  of  the  naval  officers.  The  Queen 


was  deliberating  whether  she  should  cashier  those  who  were 
suspected,  or  try  the  effect  of  an  appeal  to  their  honour  and 
patriotism.  At  such  a  moment  the  minister  could  not  refuse  to 
listen  to  any  person  who  professed  himself  able  to  give  them 
valuable  information.  Young  and  his  accomplice  were  brought 
before  the  Privy  Council.  They  there  accused  Marlborough, 
Cornhury,  Salisbury,  Bancroft,  and  Sprat  of  high  treason. 
These  great  men,  Young  said,  had  invited  James  to  invade  Eng- 
land, and  had  promised  to  join  him.  The  eloquent  and  inge- 
nious Bishop  of  Rochester  had  undertaken  to  draw  up  a  Declara- 
tion which  would  inflame  the  nation  against  the  government  of 
King  William.  The  conspirators  were  bound  together  by  a 
written  in  trument.  That  instrument,  signed  by  their  own  hands, 
would  be  found  at  Bromley  if  careful  search  was  made.  Young 
particularly  requested  that  the  messengers  might  be  ordered  to 
examine  the  Bishop's  flowerpots. 

The  ministers  were  seriously  alarmed.  The  story  was  cir- 
cumstantial ;  and  part  of  it  was  probable.  Marl  borough's  deal- 
ings with  Saint  Germains  were  well  known  to  Caermarthen, 
to  Nottingham,  and  to  Sidney.  Cornbury  was  a  tool  of  Marl- 
borough,  and  was  tne  son  of  a  nonjnror  and  of  a  notorious  plot- 
ter. Salisbury  was  a  Papist.  Bancroft  had,  not  many  months 
before,  been,  with  too  much  show  of  reason,  suspected  of  invi- 
ting the  French  to  invade  England.  Of  all  the  accused  persons 
Sprat  was  the  most  unlikely  to  be  concerned  in  any  hazardous 
design.  He  had  neither  enthusiasm  nor  constancy.  Both  his 
ambition  and  his  party  spirit  had  always  been  effectually 
kept  in  order  by  his  love  of  ease  and  his  anxiety  for  his  own 
safety.  He  had  been  guilty  of  some  criminal  compliances  in 
the  hope  of  gaining  the  favour  of  James,  had  sate  in  the  High 
Commission,  had  concurred  iti  several  iniquitous  decrees  pro- 
nounced by  that  court,  and  had,  with  trembling  hands  and  fal- 
tering voice,  read  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence  in  the  choir  of 
the  Abbey.  But  there  he  had  stopped.  As  soon  as  it  began 
to  be  whispered  that  the  civil  arid  religious  constitution  of  Eng- 
land would  speedily  be  vindicated  by  extraordinary  means,  he 
had  resigned  the  powers  which  he  had  during  two  years  exercised 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  329 

in  defiance  of  law,  and  had  hastened  to  make  his  peace  with  his 
clerical  brethren.  He  had  in  the  Convention  voted  for  a  Re- 
gency :  but  he  had  taken  the  oaths  without  hesitation  :  he  hud 
borne  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  coronation  of  the  new  Sover- 
eigns :  and  by  his  skilful  hand  had  been  added  to  the  Form  of 
Prayer  used  on  the  fifth  of  November  those  sentences  in  which 
the  Church  expresses  her  gratitude  for  the  second  great  deliver- 
ance wrought  on  that  day.*  Such  a  man,  possessed  of  a  plenti- 
ful income,  of  a  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords,  of  one  agreeable 
mansion  among  the  elms  of  Bromley,  and  of  another  in  the 
cloisters  of  Westminster,  was  very  unlikely  to  run  the  risk  of 
martyrdom.  He  was  not,  indeed,  on  perfectly  good  terms  with 
the  government.  For  the  feeling,  which,  next  to  solicitude  for 
his  own  comfort  and  repose,  seems  to  have  had  the  greatest  in- 
fluence on  his  public  conduct,  was  his  dislike  of  the  Puritans,  a 
dislike  which  sprang,  not  from  bigotry,  but  from  Epicureanism. 
Their  austerity  was  a  reproach  to  his  slothful  and  luxurious  life  : 
their  phraseology  shocked  his  fastidious  taste  ;  and,  where  they 
were  concerned,  his  ordinary  good  nature  forsook  him.  Loath- 
ing the  nonconformists  as  he  did,  he  was  not  likely  to  be  very 
zealous  for  a  prince  whom  the  nonconformists  regarded  as 
their  protector.  But  Sprat's  faults  afforded  ample  security 
that  he  would  never,  from  spleen  against  William,  engage  in 
any  plot  to  bring  back  James.  Why  Young  should  have  as- 
signed the  most  perilous  part  in  an  enterprise  full  of  peril  to  a 
man  singularly  pliant,  cautious,  and  selfindulgent,  it  is  difficult 
to  say. 

The  first  step  which  the  ministers  took  was  to  send  Marl- 
borough  to  the  Tower.  He  was  by  far  the  most  formidable  of 
all  the  accused  persons ;  and  that  he  had  held  a  traitorous  cor- 
respondence with  Saint  Germains  was  a  fact  which,  whether 
Young  were  perjured  or  not,  the  Queen  and  her  chief  advisers 
knew  to  be  true.  One  of  the  Clerks  of  the  Council  and  several 
messengers  were  sent  down  to  Bromley  with  A  warrant  from 
Nottingham.  Sprat  was  taken  into  custody.  All  the  apart- 
ments iu  which  it  could  reasonably  be  supposed  that  he  would 

*  Gutch,  Collectanea  Curiosa. 


have  hidden  an  important  document  were  searched,  the  library, 
the  dining-room,  the  drawing-room,  the  bedchamber,  and  the 
adjacent  closets.  His  papers  were  strictly  examined.  Much 
good  prose  was  found,  and  probably  some  bad  verse,  but  no 
treason.  The  messengers  pried  into  every  flowerpot  that  they 
could  find,  but  to  no  purpose.  It  never  occurred  to  them  to 
look  into  the  room  in  which  Blackhead  had  hidden  the  Associa- 
tion: for  that  room  was  near  the  offices  occupied  by  the  ser- 
vants, and  was  little  used  by  the  Bishop  and  his  family.  The 
officers  returned  to  London  with  their  prisoner,  but  without  the 
document  which,  if  it  had  been  found,  might  have  been  fatal  to 

Late  at  night  he  was  brought  to  "Westminster,  and  was 
suffered  to  sleep  at  his  deanery.  All  his  bookcases  and  drawers 
were  examined ;  and  sentinels  were  posted  at  the  door  of  his 
bedchamber,  but  with  strict  orders  to  behave  civilly  and  not  to 
disturb  the  family. 

On  the  following  day  he  was  brought  before  the  Council. 
The  examination  was  conducted  by  Nottingham  with  great 
humanity  and  courtesy.  The  Bishop,  conscious  of  entire  inno- 
cence, behaved  with  temper  and  firmness.  He  made  no  com- 
plaints. "  I  submit,"  he  said,  "  to  the  necessities  of  State  at 
such  a  time  of  jealousy  and  danger  as  this."  He  was  asked 
whether  he  "had  drawn  up  a  Declaration  for  King  James, 
whether  he  had  held  any  correspondence  with  France,  whether 
he  had  signed  any  treasonable  association,  and  whether  he  knew 
of  any  such  association.  To  all  these  questions  he,  with  perfect 
truth,  answered  in  the  negative,  on  the  word  of  a  Christian  and 
a  Bishop.  He  was  taken  back  to  his  deanery.  He  remained 
there  in  easy  confinement  during  ten  days,  and  then,  as  nothing 
tending  to  criminate  him  had  been  discovered,  was  suffered  to 
return  to  Bromley. 

Meanwhile  the  false  accusers  had  been  devising  a  new 
scheme.  Blackhead  paid  another  visit  to  Bromley,  and  con- 
trived to  take  the  forged  Association  out  of  the  place  in  which 
he  had  hid  it,  and  to  bring  it  back  to  Young.  One  of  Young's 
two  wives  then  carried  It  to  the  Secretary's'  Office,  and  told  a 


He,  invented  by  her  husband,  to  explain  how  a  paper  of  such 
importance  had  come  into  her  hands.  But  it  was  not  now  so 
easy  to  frighten  the  ministers  as  it  had  been  a  few  days  before. 
The  battle  of  La  Hogue  had  put  an  end  to  all  apprehensions  of 
invasion.  Nottingham,  therefore,  instead  of  sending  down  a 
warrant  to  Bromley,  merely  wrote  to  beg  that  Sprat  would  call 
on  him  at  Whitehall.  The  summons  was  promptly  obeyed,  and 
the  accused  prelate  was  brought  face  to  face  with  Blackhead 
before  the  Council.  Then  the  truth  came  out  fast.  The  Bishop 
remembered  the  villanous  look  and  voice  of  the  man  who  had 
knelt  to  ask  the  episcopal  blessing.  The  Bishop's  secretary 
confirmed  his  master's  assertions.  The  false  witness  soon  lost 
his  presence  of  mind.  His  cheeks,  always  sallow,  grew  fright- 
fully livid.  His  voice,  generally  loud  and  coarse,  sank  into  a 
whisper.  The  Privy  Councillors  saw  his  confusion,  and  cross- 
examined  him  sharply.  For  a  time  he  answered  their  questions 
by  repeatedly  stammering  out  his  original  lie  in  the  original 
words.  At  last  he  found  that  he  had  no  way  of  extricating 
himself  but  by  owning  his  guilt.  He  acknowledged  that  he  had 
given  an  untrue  account  of  his  visit  to  Bromley  ;  and,  after 
much  prevarication,  he  related  how  he  had  hidden  the  Associa- 
tion, and  how  he  had  removed  it  from  its  hiding  place,  and  con- 
fessed that  he  had  been  set  on  by  Young. 

The  two  accomplices  were  then  confronted.  Young,  with 
unabashed  forehead,  denied  everything.  He  knew  nothing 
about  the  flowerpots.  "  If  so,"  cried  Nottingham  and  Sidney 
together,  "  why  did  you  give  such  particular  directions  that  the 
flowerpots  at  Bromley  should  be  searched  ?  "  "I  never  gave 
any  directions  about  the  flowerpots,"  said  Young.  Then  the 
whole  council  broke  forth.  "  How  dare  you  say  so  ?  We  all 
remember  it."  Still  the  knave  stood  up  erect,  and  exclaimed, 
with  an  impudenoe  which  Gates  might  have  envied,  "  This  hid- 
ing is  all  a  trick  got  up  between  the  Bishop  and  Blackhead. 
The  Bishop  has  taken  Blackhead  off ;  and  they  are  both  trying 
to  stifle  the  plot."  This  was  too  much.  There  was  a  smile  and 
a  lifting  up  of  hands  all  round  the  board.  "  Man,"  cried  Caer- 
marthen,  "  wouldst  thou  have  us  believe  that  the  Bishop  con- 


trived  to  have  this  paper  put  where  it  was  ten  to  one  that  our 
messengers  had  found  it,  and  where,  if  they  had  found  it,  it 
might  have  hanged  him  ?  " 

The  false  accusers  were  removed  in  custody.  The  Bishop, 
after  warmly  thanking  the  ministers  for  their  fair  and  honour- 
able conduct,  took  his  leave  of  them.  In  the  antechamber  he 
found  a  crowd  of  people  staring  at  Young,  while  Young  sate, 
enduring  the  stare  with  the  serene  fortitude  of  a  man  who  had 
looked  down  on  far  greater  multitudes  from  half  the  pillories 
in  England.  "  Young,"  said  Sprat,  "  your  conscience  must 
tell  you  that  you  have  cruelly  wronged  me.  For  your  own 
sake  I  am  sorry  that  you  persist  in  denying  what  your  associate 
has  confessed."  "  Confessed  !  "  cried  Young  :  "•  no,  all  is  not 
confessed  yet ;  and  that  yon  shall  find  to  your  sorrow.  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  impeachment,  my  Lord.  When  Parliament 
sits  you  shall  hear  more  of  me."  "  God  give  you  repentance," 
answered  the  Bishop.  "  For,  depend  upon  it,  you  are  in  much 
more  danger  of  being  damned  than  I  of  being  impeached."* 

Forty-eight  hours  after  the  detection  of  this  execrable  fraud 
Marlborough  was  admitted  to  bail.  Young  and"  Blackhead  had 
done  him  an  inestimable  service.  That  he  was  concerned  in  a  plot 
quite  as  criminal  as  that  which  they  had  falsely  imputed  to  him, 
and  that  the  government  was  in  possession  of  moral  proofs  of 
his  guilt,  is  now  certain.  But  his  contemporaries  had  not,  as 
we  have,  the  evidence  of  his  perfidy*  before  them.  .  They  knew 
that  he  had  been  accused  of  an  offence  of  which  he  was  inno- 
cent, that  perjury  and  forgery  had  been  employed  to  ruin  him, 
and  that,  in  consequence  of  these  machinations,  he  had  passed 
some  weeks  in  the  Tower.  There  was  in  the  public  mind  a 
very  natural  confusion  between  his  disgrace  and  his  imprison- 
ment. He  had  been  imprisoned  without  sufficient  cause.  Might 
it  not,  in  the  absence  of  all  information,  be  reasonably  pre- 
sumed that  he  had  been  disgraced  without  sufficient  cause  ?  It 
was  certain  that  a  vile  calumny,  destitute  of  all  foundation,  had 

*  My  account  of  this  plot  is  chiefly  taken  from  Sprat's  Relation  of  the  late 
"Wicked  Contrivance  of  Stephen  Blackhead  and  Kobert  Young,  1UU2.  There  axe 
very  few  better  narratives  in  the  language. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  333 

caused  him  to  be  treated  as  a  criminal  in  May.  Was  it  not 
probable,  then,  that  calumny  might  have  deprived  him  of  his 
master's  favour  in  January  ? 

Young's  resources  were  not  yet  exhausted.  As  soon  as  he 
had  been  carried  back  from  Whitehall  to  Newgate,  he  set  him- 
self to  construct  a  new  plot,  and  to  find  a  new  accomplice.  He 
addressed  himself  to  a  man  named  Holland,  who  was  in  the 
lowest  state  of  poverty.  Never,  said  Young,  was  there  such  a 
golden  opportunity.  A  bold,  shrewd,  fellow  might  easily  earn 
live  hundred  pounds.  To  Holland  five  hundred  pounds  seemed 
fabulous  wealth.  What,  he  asked,  was  he  to  do  for  it  ?  No- 
thing, he  was  told,  but  to  speak  the  truth,  that  was  to  say, 
substantial  truth,  a  little  disguised  and  coloured.  There  really 
was  a  plot;  and  this  would  have  been  proved  if  Blackhead  had 
not  been  bought  off.  His  desertion  had  made  it  necessary  to 
call  in  the  help  of  fiction.  "  You  must  swear  that  you  and  I 
were  in  a  back  room  upstairs  at  the  Lobster  in  Southwark. 
Some  men  came  to  meet  us  there.  They  gave  a  password  be- 
fore they  were  admitted.  They  were  all  in  white  camlet  cloaks. 
They  signed  the  Association  in  our  presence.  Then  they  paid 
each  his  shilling  and  went  away.  And  you  must  be  ready  to 
identify  my  Lord  Marlborough  and  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  as 
two  of  these  men."  "  How  can  I  identify  them  ?  "  said  Holland, 
"•  I  never  saw  them."  "  You  must  contrive  to  see  them," 
answered  the  tempter,  "  as  soon  as  you  can.  The  Bishop  will 
be  at  the  Abbey.  Any  body  about  the  court  will  point  out  my 
Lord  Marlborough."  Holland  immediately  went  to  Whitehall, 
and  repeated  this  conversation  to  Nottingham.  The  unlucky 
imitator  of  Gates  was  prosecuted,  by  order  of  the  government, 
for  perjury,  subornation  of  perjury,  and  forgery.  He  was  con- 
victed and  imprisoned,  was  again  set  in  the  pillory,  and  under- 
went, in  addition  to  the  exposure,  about  which  he  cared  little, 
such  a  pelting  as  had  seldom  been  known.*  After  his  punish- 
ment, he  was,  during  some  years,  lost  in  the  crowd  of  pilferers,' 
ringdroppers,  and  sharpers  who  infested  the  capital.  At  length, 
in  the  year  1700,  he  emerged  from  his  obscurity,  and  excited  a 

*  Badeu  to  the  States  General,  Feb.  14-24, 1693. 


momentary  interest.  The  newspapers  announced  that  Robert 
Young,  Clerk,  once  so  famous,  had  been  taken  up  for  coining, 
then  that  he  had  been  found  guilty,  then  that  the  dead  warrant 
had  come  down,  and  finally  that  the  reverend  gentleman  had 
been  hanged  at  Tyburn,  and  had  greatly  edified  a  large  assembly 
of  spectators  by  his  penitence.* 

*  Postman,  April  13  and  20, 1700 ;  Postboy,  April  18  ;  Flying  Post,  April  20. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  335 


"WniLE  England  was  agitated,  first  by  the  dread  of  an  invasion, 
and  then  by  joy  at  the  deliverance  wrought  for  her  by  the 
valour  of  her  seamen,  important  events  were  taking  place  on 
the  Continent.  On  the  sixth  of  March  the  King  had  arrived 
at  the  Hague,  and  had  proceeded  to  make  his  arrangements  for 
the  approaching  campaign.* 

The  prospect  which  lay  before  him  was  gloomy.  The  co- 
alition of  which  he  was  the  author  and  the  chief  had,  during 
some  months,  been  in  constant  danger  of  dissolution.  By  what 
strenuous  exertions,  by  what  ingenious  expedients,  by  what 
blandishments,  by  what  bribes,  he  succeeded  in  preventing  his 
allies  from  throwing  themselves,  one  by  one,  at  the  feet  of 
France,  can  be  but  imperfectly  known.  The  fullest  and  most 
authentic  record  of  the  labours  and  sacrifices  by  which  he  kept 
together,  during  eight  years,  a  crowd  of  fainthearted  and  treach- 
erous potentates,  negligent  of  the  common  interest  and  jealous 
of  each  other,  is  to  be  found  in  his  correspondence  with 
Heinsius.  In  that  correspondence  William  is  all  himself.  He 
had,  in  the  course  of  his  eventful  life,  to  sustain  some  high  parts 
for  which  he  was  not  eminently  qualified  ;  and,  in  those  parts, 
his  success  was  imperfect.  As  sovereign  of  England,  he  showed 
abilities  and  virtues  which  entitle  him  to  honourable  mention  in 
history  ;  but  his  deficiencies  were  great.  He  was  to  the  last  a 
stranger  among  us,  cold,  reserved,  never  in  good  spirits,  never 
at  his  ease.  His  kingdom  was  a  place  of  exile.  His  finest 
palaces  were  prisons.  He  was  always  counting  the  days  which 
must  elapse  before  he  should  again  see  the  land  of  his  birth,  the 

»  London  Gazette,  March  14, 1C91-2. 


clipped  trees,  the  wings  of  the  innumerable  windmills,  the  nests 
of  the  storks  on  the  tall  gables,  and  the  long  lines  of  painted 
villas  reflected  in  the  sleeping  canals.  He  took  no  pains  to  hide 
the  preference  which  he  felt  for  his  native  soil  and  for  his  early- 
friends  ;  and  therefore,  though  he  rendered  great  service  to 
our  country,  he  did  not  reign  in  our  hearts.  As  a  general  in 
the  field,  again,  he  showed  rare  courage  and  capacity  :  but,  from 
whatever  cause,  he  was,  as  a  tactician,  inferior  to  some  of  his  con- 
temporaries, who,  in  general  powers  of  mind,  were  far  inferior  to 
him.  The  business  for  which  he  was  preeminently  fitted  was 
diplomacy,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  he  has  ever  had  a  superior  in  the  art  of  conducting 
those  great  negotiations  on  which  the  welfare  of  the  common- 
wealth of  nations  depends.  His  skill  in  this  department  of 
politics  was  never  more  severely  tasked  or  more  signally  proved 
than  during  the  latter  part  of  1691  and  the  early  part  of  1692. 
One  of  his  chief  difficulties  was  caused  by  the  sullen  and 
menacing  demeanour  of  the  Northern  powers.  Denmark  and 
Sweden  had  at  one  time  seemed  disposed  to  join  the  coalition  : 
but  they  had  early  become  cold,  and  were  fast  becoming  hos- 
tile. From  France  they  flattered  themselves  that  they  had 
little  to  fear.  It  was  not  very  probable  that  her  armies  would 
cross  the  Elbe,  or  that  her  fleets  would  force  a  passage  through 
the  Sound.  But  the  naval  strength  of  England  and  Holland 
united  might  well  excite  apprehension  at  Stockholm  and  Co- 
penhagen, Soon  arose  vexatious  questions  of  maritime  right, 
questions  such  as,  in  almost  every  extensive  war  of  modern 
times,  have  arisen  between  belligerents  and  neutrals.  The 
Scandinavian  princes  complained  that  the  legitimate  trade  be- 
tween the  Baltic  and  France  was  tyrannically  interrupted. 
Though  they  had  not  in  general  been  on  very  friendly  terms 
with  each  other,  they  began  to  draw  close  together,  intrigued  at 
every  petty  German  court,  and  tried  to  form  what  William 
called  a  Third  Party  in  Europe.  The  King  of  Sweden,  who, 
as  Duke  of  Pomerania,  was  bound  to  send  three  thousand  men 
for  the  defence  of  the  Empire,  sent,  instead  of  them,  his  advice 
that  the  allies  would  make  peace  on  the  best  terms  which  they 

WILLIAM   AND    MAR?.  337 

could  get.*  The  King  of  Denmark  seized  a  great  number  of 
Dutch  merchantships,  and  collected  in  Holstein  an  army  which 
caused  no  small  uneasiness  to  his  neighbours.  "  I  fear,"  William 
wrote,  in  an  hour  of  deep  dejection,  to  Heinsius,  "  I  fear  that 
the  object  of  this  Third  Party  is  a  peace  which  will  bring  in  its 
train  the  slavery  of  Europe.  The  day  will  come  when  Sweden 
and  her  confederates  will  know  too  late  how  great  an  error  they 
have  committed.  They  are  farther,  no  doubt,  than  we  from  the 
danger  ;  and  therefore  it  is  that  they  are  thus  bent  on  working 
our  ruin  and  their  own.  That  France  will  now  consent  to 
reasonable  terms  is  not  to  be  expected  ;  and  it  were  better  to 
fall  sword  in  hand  than  to  submit  to  whatever  she  may  dictate.'  f 
While  the  King  was  thus  disquieted  by  the  conduct  of  the 
Northern  powers,  ominous  signs  began  to  appear  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent quarter.  It  had,  from  the  first,  been  no  easy  matter  to 
induce  sovereigns  who  hated,  and  who  in  their  own  dominions, 
persecuted,  the  Protestant  religion,  to  countenance  the  revolu- 
tion which  had  saved  that  religion  from  a  great  peril.  But 
happily  the  example  and  the  authority  of  the  Vatican  had  over- 
come their  scruples.  Innocent  the  Eleventh  and  Alexander  the 
Eighth  had  regarded  William  with  ill  concealed  partiality.  He 
was  not  indeed  their  friend ;  but  he  was  their  enemy's  enemy ; 
and  James  had  been,  and,  if  restored,  must  again  be,  their 
enemy's  vassal.  To  the  heretic  nephew  therefore  they  gave 
their  effective  support,  to  the  orthodox  uncle  only  compliments 
and  benedictions.  But  Alexander  the  Eighth  had  occupied  the 
papal  throne  little  more  than  fifteen  months.  His  successor, 
Antonio  Pignatelli,  who  took  the  name  of  Innocent  the 
Twelfth,  was  impatient  to  be  reconciled  to  Lewis.  Lewis  was 
now  sensible  that  he  had  committed  a  great  error  when  he  had 
roused  against  him  at  once  the  spirit  of  Protestantism  and  the 
spirit  of  Popery.  He  permitted  the  French  Bishops  to  submit 
themselves  to  the  Holy  See.  The  dispute,  which  had,  at  one 
time,  seemed  likely  to  end  in  a  great  Gallicau  schism,  was  ao 

*  The  Swedes  came,  it  is  true,  but  not  till  the  campaign  was  over.    London 
Gazette,  Sept.  10, 1691. 

t  William  to  Heinsius,  Marcli  14-24, 1682L 

VOL.  IV.— 22 


commodated  ;  and  there  was  reason  to  believe  that  the  influ- 
ence of  the  head  of  the  Church  would  be  exerted  for  the  pur- 
pose of  severing  the  ties  which  bound  so  many  Catholic  princes 
to  the  Calvinist  who  had  usurped  the  British  throne. 

Meanwhile  the  coalition,  which  the  Third  Party  on  one  side 
and  the  Pope  on  the  other  were  trying  to  dissolve,  was  in  no 
email  danger  of  falling  to  pieces  from  mere  rottenness.  Two  of 
the  allied  powers,  and  two  only,  were  hearty  in  the  common 
cause ;  England,  drawing  after  her  the  other  British  kingdoms, 
and  Holland,  drawing  after  her  the  other  Batavian  common- 
wealths. England  and  Holland  were  indeed  torn  by  internal 
factions,  and  were  separated  from  each  other  by  mutual  jeal- 
ousies and  antipathies  :  but  both  were  fully  resolved  not  to 
submit  to  French  domination  ;  and  both  were  ready  to  bear 
their  share,  and  more  than  their  share,  of  the  charges  of  the 
contest.  Most  of  the  members  of  the  confederacy  were  not 
nations,  but  men,  an  Emperor,  a  King,  Electors,  Dukes,  Land- 
graves ;  and  of  these  men  there  was  scarcely  one  whose  whole 
soul  was  in  the  struggle,  scarcely  one  who  did  not  hang  back, 
who  did  not  find  some  excuse  for  omitting  to  fulfil  his  engage- 
ments, who  did  not  expect  to  be  hired  to  defend  his  own  rights 
and  interests  against  the  common  enemy.  But  the  war  was  the 
war  of  the  people  of  England  and  of  the  people  of  Holland. 
Had  it  not  been  so,  the  burdens  which  it  made  necessary  would 
not  have  been  borne  by  either  England  or  Holland  during  a 
single  year.  When  William  said  that  he  would  rather  die 
sword  in  hand  than  humble  himself  before  France,  he  expressed 
what  was  felt,  not  by  himself  alone,  but  by  two  great  commu- 
nities of  which  he  was  the  first  magistrate.  With  those  two 
communities,  unhappily,  other  states  had  little  sympathy.  In- 
deed those  two  communities  were  regarded  by  other  states  as 
rich,  plaindealing,  generous  dupes  are  regarded  by  needy 
sharpers.  England  and  Holland  were  wealthy  ;  and  they  were 
zealous.  Their  wealth  excited  the  cupidity  of  the  whole  alli- 
ance ;  and  to  that  wealth  their  zeal  was  the  key.  They  were 
persecuted  with  sordid  importunity  by  all  their  confederates, 
from  Cassar,  who,  in  the  pride  of  his  solitary  dignity,  would 

STATE   OF   ENGLAND   IN    1685.  339 

not  honour  King  William  with  the  title  of  Majesty,  down  to 
the  smallest  Margrave  who  could  see  his  whole  principality 
from  the  cracked  windows  of  the  mean  and  ruinous  old  house 
which  he  called  his  palace.  It  was  not  enough  that  England 
and  Holland  furnished  much  more  than  their  contingents  to  the 
war  by  land,  and  bore  unassisted  the  whole  charge  of  the  war 
by  sea.  They  were  beset  by  a  crowd  of  illustrious  mendicants, 
some  rude,  some  obsequious,  but  all  indefatigable  and  insatiable. 
One  prince  came  mumping  to  them  annually  with  a  lamentable 
story  about  his  distresses.  A  more  sturdy  beggar  threatened  to 
join  the  Third  Party,  and  to  make  a  separate  peace  with 
France,  if  his  demands  were  not  granted.  Every  Sovereign  too 
had  his  ministers  and  favourites ;  and  these  ministers  and  fa- 
vourites were  perpetually  hinting  that  France  was  willing  to 
pay  them  for  detaching  their  masters  from  the  coalition,  and 
that  it  would  be  prudent  in  England  and  Holland  to  outbid 

Yet  the  embarrassment  caused  by  the  rapacity  of  the  allied 
courts  was  scarcely  greater  than  the  embarrassment  caused  by 
their  ambition  and  their  pride.  This  prince  had  set  his  heart  on 
some  childish  distinction,  a  title  or  a  cross,  and  would  do  noth- 
ing for  the  common  cause  till  his  wishes  were  accomplished. 
That  prince  chose  to  fancy  that  he  had  been  slighted,  and 
would  not  stir  till  reparation  had  been  made  to  him.  The 
Duke  of  Brunswick  Lunenburg  would  not  furnish  a  battalion 
for  the  defence  of  Germany  unless  he  was  made  an  Elector.* 
The  Elector  of  Brandenburg  declared  that  he  was  as  hostile  as 
he  had  ever  been  to  France  ;  but  he  had  been  ill  used  by  the 
Spanish  government ;  and  he  therefore  would  not  suffer  his 
soldiers  to  be  employed  in  the  defence  of  the  Spanish  Nether- 
lauds.  -He  was  willing  to  bear  his  share  of  the  war  :  but  it 
must  be  in  his  own  way  :  he  must  have  the  command  of  a  dis- 
tinct army ;  and  he  must  be  stationed  between  the  Rhine  and 
the  Meuse.f  The  Elector  of  Saxony  complained  that  bad 
winter  quarters  had  been  assigned  to  his  troops  :  he  therefore 

«  William  to  Heinsius,  Feb.  2-12,  1692. 
t  William  to  Heinsius,  Jan.  12-22, 1C92. 


recalled  them  just  when  they  should  have  been  preparing  to 
take  the  field,  but  very  coolly  offered  to  seud  them  back  if 
England  and  Holland  would  give  him  four  hundred  thousand 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  at  least  the  two  chiefs  of 
the  House  of  Austria  would  have  put  forth,  at  this  conjuncture, 
all  their  strength  against  the  rival  House  of  Bourbon.  Unfor- 
tunately they  could  not  be  induced  to  exert  themselves  vigorously 
even  for  their  own  preservation.  They  were  deeply  interested 
in  keeping  the  French  out  of  Italy.  Yet  they  could  with  diffi- 
culty Jbe  prevailed  upon  to  lend  the  smallest  assistance  to  the 
Duke  of  Savoy.  They  seemed  to  think  it  the  business  of  Eng- 
land and  Holland  to  defend  the  passes  of  the  Alps,  and  to  pre- 
vent the  armies  of  Lewis  from  overflowing  Lombarrly.  To  the 
Emperor  indeed  the  war  against  France  was  a  secondary  object. 
His  first  object  was  the  war  against  Turkey.  He  was  dull  and 
bigoted.  His  mind  misgave  him  that  the  war  against  France 
was,  in  some  sense,  a  war  against  the  Catholic  religion  ;  and  the 
war  against  Turkey  was  a  crusade.  His  recent  campaign  on 
the  Danube  had  been  successful.  He  might  easily  have  con- 
cluded an  honourable  peace  with  the  Porte,  and  have  turned  his 
arms  westward.  But  he  had  conceived  the  hope  that  he  might 
extend  his  hereditary  dominions  at  the  expense  of  the  Infidels. 
Visions  of  triumphant  entry  into  Constantinople  and  of  a  Te 
Deum  in  Saint  Sophia's  had  risen  in  his  brain.  He  not  only 
employed  in  the  East  a  force  more  than  sufficient  to  have 
defended  Piedmont  and  reconquered  Lorraine  ;  but  he  seemed 
to  think  that  England  and  Holland  were  bound  to  reward  him 
largely  for  neglecting  their  interest  and  pursuing  his  ovvn.f 

Spain  already  was  what  she  has  continued  to  be  down  to  our 
own  time.  Of  the  Spain  which  had  domineered  over  the  land 
and  the  ocean,  over  the  Old  and  the  New  World,  of  the  Spain 
which  had,  in  the  short  space  of  twelve  years,  led  captive  a 
Pope  and  a  King  of  France,  a  Sovereign  of  Mexico  and  a 
Sovereign  of  Peru,  of  the  Spain  which  had  sent  an  army  to  the 

*  William  to  Heinsius,  Jan.  19-29,  1692. 

t  Buruet,  ii.  82,  83 ;  Correspondence  of  William  and  Heinsius,  passim. 

WILLIAM    AND    MART.  341 

walls  of  Paris  and  had  equipped  a  mighty  fleet  to  invade  Eng- 
land, nothing  remained  but  an  arrogance  which  had  once  excited 
terror  and  hatred,  but  which  could  now  excite  only  derision. 
In  extent,  indeed,  the  dominions  of  the  Catholic  King  exceeded 
those  of  Rome  when  Rome  was  at  the  zenith  of  power.  But 
the  huge  mass  lay  torpid  and  helpless,  and  could  be  insulted  or 
despoiled  with  impunity.  The  whole  administration,  military 
and  naval,  financial  and  colonial,  was  utterly  disorganized. 
Charles  was  a  fit  representative  of  his  kingdom,  impotent  phys- 
ically, intellectually,  and  morally,  sunk  in  ignorance,  listlessness, 
and  superstition,  yet  swollen  with  a  notion  of  his  own  dig- 
nity, and  quick  to  imagine  and  to  resent  affronts.  So  wretched 
had  his  education  been  that,  when  he  was  told  of  the  fall 
of  Mons,  the  most  important  fortress  in  his  vast  empire,  he 
asked  whether  Mons  was  in  England.*  Among  the  ministers 
who  were  raised  up  and  pulled  down  by  his  sickly  caprice 
was  none  capable  of  applying  a  remedy  to  the  distempers  of 
the  State.  In  truth  to  brace  anew  the  nerves  of  that  paralysed 
body  would  have  been  a  hard  task  even  for  Ximenes.  No  ser- 
vant of  the  Spanish  Crown  occupied  a  more  important  post,  and 
none  was  more  unfit  for  an  important  post,  than  the  Marquess 
of  Gastanaga.  He  was  Governor  of  the  Netherlands  ;  and  in 
the  Netherlands  it  seemed  probable  that  the  fate  of  Christendom 
would  be  decided.  He  had  discharged  his  trust  as  every  public 
trust  was  then  discharged  in  every  part  of  that  vast  monarchy 
on  which  it  was  boastfully  said  that  the  sun  never  set.  Fertile 
and  rich  as  was  the  country  which  he  ruled,  he  threw  on  Eng- 
land and  Holland  the  whole  charge  of  defending  it.  He  ex- 
pected that  arms,  ammunition,  waggons,  provisions,  every  thing, 
would  be  furnished  by  the  heretics.  It  had  never  occurred  to 
him  that  it  was  his  business,  and  not  theirs,  to  put  Mons  in  a 
condition  to  stand  a  siege.  The  public  voice  loudly  accused  him 
of  having  sold  that  celebrated  stronghold  to  France.  But  it  is 
probable  that  he  was  guilty  of  nothing  worse  than  the  haughty 
apathy  and  sluggishness  characteristic  of  his  nation. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  coalition  of  which  William  was  the 

*  Memoires  de  Torcy. 


head.  There  were  moments  when  he  felt  himself  overwhelmed, 
when  his  spirits  sank,  when  his  patience  was  wearied  out,  and 
when  his  constitutional  irritability  broke  forth.  "  I  cannot,"  he 
wrote,  "  offer  a  suggestion  without  being  met  by  a  demand  for 
subsidy"."*  "  I  have  refused  point  blank,"  he  wrote  on  another 
occasion,  when  he  had  been  importuned  for  money  :  "  it  is  im- 
possible that  the  States  General  and  England  can  bear  the 
charge  of  the  army  on  the  Rhine,  of  the  army  in  Piedmont, 
and  of  the  whole  defence  of  Flanders,  to  say  nothing  of  the  im- 
mense cost  of  the  naval  war.  If  our  allies  can  do  nothing  for 
themselves,  the  sooner  the  alliance  goes  to  pieces  the  better."f 
But,  after  every  short  fit  of  despondency  and  ill  humour,  he  call- 
ed up  all  the  force  of  his  mind,  and  put  a  strong  curb  on  his  tem- 
per. Weak,  mean,  false,  selfish,  as  too  many  of  the  confederates 
were,  it  was  only  by  their  help  that  he  could  accomplish  what 
he  had  from  his  youth  up  considered  as  his  mission.  If  they  aban- 
doned him,  France  would  be  dominant  without  a  rival  in  Eu- 
rope. Well  as  they  deserved  to  be  punished,  he  would  not,  to 
punish  them,  acquiesce  in  the  subjugation  of  the  whole  civilised 
world.  He  set  himself  therefore  to  surmount  some  difficulties 
and  to  evade  others.  The  Scandinavian  powers  he  conciliated 
by  waving,  reluctantly  indeed,  and  not  without  a  hard  internal 
struggle,  some  of  his  maritime  rights.. t  At  Rome  his  influence 
though  indirectly  exercised,  balanced  that  of  the  Pope  himself. 
Lewis  and  James  found  that  they  had  not  a  friend  at  the  Vat- 
ican except  Innocent ;  and  Innocent,  whose  nature  was  gentle 
and  irresolute,  shrank  from  taking  a  course  directly  opposed  to 
the  sentiments  of  all  who  surrounded  him.  In  private  conver- 
sations with  Jacobite  agents  he  declared  himself  devoted  to  the 
interest  of  the  House  of  Stewart :  but  in  his  public  acts  he  ob- 
served a  strict  neutrality.  lie  sent  twenty  thousand  crowns 
to  Saint  Germains  :  but  he  excused  himself  to  the  enemies  of 
France  by  protesting  that  this  was  not  a  subsidy  for  any  polit- 
ical purpose,  but  merely  an  alms  to  be  distributed  among  poor 

*  William  to  Heinsius,  Oct_28- 1691.  t  Ibid.  Jan.  19-29. 1692. 

Nov.  8 

t  His  letters  to  Heinsius  are  full  of  this  subject. 

WILLIAM   AND    MART.  343 

British  Catholics.  He  permitted  prayers  for  the  good  cause  to 
bo  read  in  the  English  College  at  Rome  :  but  he  insisted  that 
those  prayers  should  be  drawn  up  in  general  terms,  and  that  no 
name  should  be  mentioned.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  ministers  of 
the  Houses  of  Stuart  and  Bctarbon  adjured  him  to  take  a  more  de- 
cided course.  "  God  knows,"  he  exclaimed  on  one  occasion, 
"  that  I  would  gladly  shed  my  blood  to  restore  the  King  of  Eng- 
land. But  what  can  I  do  ?  If  I  stir,  I  am  told  that  I  am  fa- 
vouring the  French,  and  helping  them  to  set  up  an  universal 
monarchy.  I  am  not  like  the  old  Popes.  Kings  will  not  lis- 
ten to  me  as  they  listened  to  my  predecessors.  There  is  no 
religion  now,  nothing  but  wicked,  worldly,  policy.  The  Prince 
of  Orange  is  master.  He  governs  us  all.  He  has  got  such  a 
hold  on  the  Emperor  and  on  the  King  of  Spain  that  neither  of 
them  dares  to  displease  him.  God  help  us !  He  alone  can  help 
us."  And,  as  the  old  man  spoke,  he  beat  the  table  with  his 
hand  in  an  agony  of  impotent  grief  and  indignation.* 

To  keep  the  German  princes  steady  was  no  easy  task  :  but 
it  was  accomplished.  Money  was  distributed  among  them, 
much  less  indeed  than  they  asked,  but  much  more  than  they 
had  any  decent  pretence  for  asking.  With  the  Elector  of  Sax- 
ony a  composition  was  made.  He  had,  together  with  a  strong 
appetite  for  subsidies,  a  great  desire  to  be  a  member  of  the  most 
select  and  illustrious  orders  of  knighthood.  It  seems  that,  in- 
stead' of  the  four  hundred  thousand  rix  dollars  which  *he  had 
demanded,  he  consented  to  accept  one  hundred  thousand  and  the 
Garter.f  His  prime  minister  Schrening,  the  most  covetous  and 
perfidious  of  mankind,  was  secured,  it  was  hoped,  by  a  pension,  t 

*  See  the  Letters  from  Rome  among  the  Xaime  Papers.  Those  in  1692  are 
from  Lytcott ,  those  in  1693  from  Cardinal  Howard  ;  those  in  1694  from  Bishop 
Ellis  ,  those  in  1095  from  Lord  Perth.  They  all  tell  the  same  story. 

t  M'illiam's  correspondence  with  Heinsius  ;  London  Gazette,  Feb.  4,  1691. 
In  a  pasquinade  published  in  1693,  and  entitled  "  La  Foire  d'Ausbourg,  Ballet 
AUegorique,"  the  Elector  of  Saxony  is  introduced  saying  : 

"  Moy,  je  diray  naivement 
Qu'um'  jaitiere  d'Anpleterre 
Foroit  tout  raon  empressement ; 
Et  je  ne  vois  nen  sur  la  terre 
Ou  je  trouve  plus  d'agrement,™ 

t  William's  correspondence  with  Heinsius.  There  is  a  curious  account  of 
Schcemng  in  the  Memoirs  of  Count  Dohua. 


For  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  Lunenburg,  William,  not  without 
difficulty,  procured  the  long  desired  title  of  Elector  of  Hanover. 
By  such  means  as  these  the  breaches  which  had  divvied  the  coa- 
lition were  so  skilfully  repaired  that  it  appeared  still  to  present 
a  firm  front  to  the  enemy. 

William  had  complained  bitterly  to  the  Spanish  Court  of  the 
incapacity  and  inertness  of  Gastanaga  ;  and  that  government, 
helpless  and  drowsy  as  it  was,  could  not  be  altogether  insensible 
to  the  dangers  which  threatened  Flanders  and  Brabant.  Gas- 
tanaga was  recalled;  and  William  was  invited  to  take  upon  him- 
self the  government  of  the  Low  Countries,  with  powers  not 
less  than  regal.  Philip  the  Second  would  not  easily  have  be- 
lieved that  within  a  century  after  his  death,  his  greatgrandson 
would  implore  the  greatgrandson  of  William  the  Silent  to  ex- 
ercise the  authority  of  a  Sovereign  at  Brussels.* 

The  offer  was  in  one  sense  tempting :  but  William  was  too 
wise  to  accept  it.  He  knew  that  the  population  of  the  Spinish 
Netherlands  was  firmly  attached  to  the  Church  of  Rome.  Every 
act  of  a  Protestant  ruler  was  certain  to  be  regarded  with  suspi- 
cion- by  the  clergy  and  people  of  those  countries.  Already  Gas- 
tanaga, mortified  by  his  disgrace,  had  written  to  inform  the 
Court  of  Rome  that  changes  were  in  contemplation  which  would 
make  Ghent  and  Antwerp  as  heretical  as  Amsterdam  and  Lon- 
don, t  It  had  doubtless  also  occurred  to  William  that  if  by  gov- 
erning mildly  and  justly,  and  by  showing  a  decent  respect  for 
the  ceremonies  and  the  ministers  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion, 
he  should  succeed  in  obtaining  the  confidence  of  the  Belgians, 
he  would  inevitably  raise  against  himself  a  storm  of  obloquy  in 
our  island.  He  knew  by  experience  what  it  was  to  govern  two 
nations  strongly  attached  to  two  different  Churches.  A  large 
party  among  the  Episcopalians  of  England  could  not  forgive 
him  for  having  consented  to  the  establishment  of  the  presbyte- 
rian  polity  in  Scotland.  A  large  party  among  the  Presbyterians 
of  Scotland  blamed  him  for  maintaining  the  episcopal  polity  in 
England.  If  he  now  took  under  his  protection  masses,  procec- 
sions,  graven  images,  friaries,  nunneries,  and  worst  of  all  Jesuit 

*  Burnet,  ii.  84.  t  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary. 

WILLIAM    AXD    MART.  345 

pulpits,  Jesuit  confessionals,  and  Jesuit  colleges,  what  could  he 
expect  but  that  England  and  Scotland  would  join  in  one  cry  of 
reprobation  ?  He  therefore  refused  to  accept  the  government  of 
the  Low  Countries,  and  proposed  that  it  should  be  entrusted  to 
the  Elector  of  Bavaria.  The  Elector  of  Bavaria  was,  after  the 
Emperor,  the  most  powerful  of  the  Roman  Catholic  potentates 
of  Germany.  He  was  young,  brave,  and  ambitious  of  military 
distinction.  The  Spanish  Court  was  willing  to  appoint  him  ; 
and  he  was  desirous  to  be  appointed  :  but  much  delay  was  caused 
by  an  absurd  difficulty.  The  Elector  th